A New Path
by Nyiestra
Summary: Tycho Celchu realizes his journey to from the Empire to the New Republic will be a difficult one, compounded by a conflict lurking between him and one of the Rogues. COMPLETED
1. Prologue

Title: A New Path  
  
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.  
  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Prologue  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Tycho Celchu took a deep breath of the processed air from his environmental suit as he sat in the cockpit of his TIE fighter. "Engines green," he muttered to himself, "lasers operational." There was no reason they shouldn't be, but it was important to check everything anyway. Besides, going through all his systems allowed him to calm himself before going out -- regardless of whether it was a patrol run or a battle.  
  
This was the former. The Inhibitor's second squadron -- the one he flew with -- would be launching in a few minutes to relieve the first squadron, currently patrolling space around the moon over Kien'tol. The Victory- class Star Destroyer he was assigned to had been sent to investigate suspicious transmissions coming from the supposedly uninhabited moon. Tycho himself was convinced it was probably nothing more than smugglers, but an assignment was an assignment, and he had no say about it.  
  
He heard a click as the channel between his fighter and the ship opened and Captain Rawn's voice came over. "First squadron is under attack. Launch immediately. Repeat, first squadron is under attack. Launch immediately."  
  
The order was instantly followed by a series of clicks from the pilots acknowledging the order, and his commanding officer's voice. "Second squadron, launch by wing pairs."  
  
His attention focused on his controls as he saw the fighter ahead of him drop slowly through the open bay and accelerate away from the ship. A wave from a deck hand gave him the go for launch, and Tycho throttled forward and dropped through the magnetic field of the open bay door, the remaining members of his squadron following in his wake. He watched as the stars changed from pinpoints to streaks of light as his ship's speed steadily increased.  
  
He couldn't yet see the flashes of the battle -- the other squadron must have been attacked on the far side of the moon. Tycho's eyes traveled along the face of the moon as he flew over it. He could barely make out the dark canyons that crisscrossed the rocky surface below him. "Two flight, take point," his CO ordered as the first flashes of light met his eyes. "Acknowledged," he replied, and then throttled forward again, accelerating past the fighters ahead of him.  
  
"Five, I'm your wing," Mith Cabri's voice came over the comm unit. There was a quiet calm in the other man's voice, and Tycho hoped the same emotion -- or lack thereof -- was reflected in his own. This was only the second battle for them both, but Tycho knew his wingman felt like he'd been fighting for years. He himself certainly did.  
  
Tycho glanced down at the HUD and drew a short breath when he saw the lack of friendlies indicated. There were three together, surrounded by several enemy fighters, and then one closer to where he was coming in, flanked by two more unfriendlies. He was just barely out of range when he saw the nearby TIE explode.  
  
Tycho watched the crosshairs on the HUD shift until they were directly over the nearest fighter to him, and smiled grimly. He saw the crosshairs turn green, indicating that he had a targeting lock and was in range to fire. Quickly he depressed the trigger, and watched as the first two bursts of laser fire sizzled against the y-wing's shields, and the third slipped through, slamming into the cockpit. The cockpit shattered, sending metal fragments flying off into space, and was instantly engulfed in flames. There was no question as to the fate of the enemy pilot. The remainder of the ship spun uncontrollably toward the moon Tycho had been looking at just minutes earlier, finally disintegrating in a spectacular explosion as it slammed into the surface.  
  
That was too easy. Y-wings were slow and not very maneuverable, but they could take a beating. That fighter's shields hadn't been at full. Someone had softened it up for him -- possibly the pilot whose death he'd seen as the light had winked out on his HUD as he'd approached the battle. Tycho felt a pang of regret at the senseless loss of life -- on both sides -- but forced his attention to the next ship. He got a target lock on the other y- wing, but his lasers barely glanced off its shields before the TIE's speed brought him past it.  
  
He heard an alarm indicate an enemy lock on his own fighter. He broke hard to port and the lock was broken -- the sluggish y-wing hadn't a hope in the galaxy of keeping up with him.  
  
A glance at his HUD indicated that there were more ships coming in -- and that there was nothing left of the Inhibitor's first squadron. "Watch it. I think they're onto us."  
  
He watched the first and third flights of his squadron veer off to intercept the oncoming y-wings, leaving Tycho's flight to deal with the single one out here. Banking around to bring himself back toward the others, he saw the telltale flashes of lasers glancing off the y-wing's shields. The fighter was taking a lot of hits, but evading a lot as well. Tycho let out a low whistle. This was not an average pilot. He hadn't seen a lot of combat, but in what he had, he'd never seen a pilot handle one of the sluggish ships so well.  
  
He cursed under his breath a moment later when he saw one of the pilots in his flight attempt to dodge a torpedo and fail. Another brilliant explosion lit up space, and Tycho swerved away from the blast, heart pounding, to avoid the debris that could cripple -- or destroy -- his fighter. But Tycho didn't have time to mourn the dead pilot. A moment later he saw that the rest of the y-wing squadron had joined them. And a moment after that he saw streaks of blue light traveling over Mith's fighter. His wingman had been hit by an ion cannon. He watched helplessly as his friend's ship tumbled, out of control, toward the moon below. When it hit, there was no explosion. The ship just came apart at impact.  
  
Tycho swallowed around the lump in his throat. Mith Cabri had been his bunkmate in the Academy, and had been his wingman since they were assigned to the Inhibitor. They'd become good friends, and Tycho knew he'd miss him.  
  
He pushed aside the pain he felt, though, as a y-wing crossed his flight path. Without hesitation, he fired, and watched as his lasers punched through what was left of the shields and chewed away at the port engine. A few sparks indicated that the engine was gone, and the already slow craft slowed even more. Another laser burst brought down the forward shields, and a third blast tore through the cockpit. Tycho knew there was no way the pilot would survive.  
  
He veered away, and again turned his attention to the HUD. His squadron was down three pilots, but the y-wings were down to six ships. "No," he muttered to himself as another y-wing blew apart, sending fragments in all directions. "Make that five."  
  
But that explosion brought his squadron down to eight pilots -- the debris from the blast tore through the cockpit of the fighter that had destroyed it, making the first loss for three flight. It was, he noted, a sort of poetic justice. If he could call anything about this justice.  
  
He banked to starboard, bringing his ship head-to-head with another enemy fighter. One of its engines was trailing smoke, but it wasn't running from the fight -- a big mistake on the pilot's part. His adversary's speed reduced, Tycho had no trouble locking onto the fighter.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Wes Janson desperately guided his damaged y-wing away from the battle. He'd lost his port engine and his ion cannon. Only one laser cannon was still functional, and he considered it a miracle that his astromech had been able to bring his shields back online at all, though they were only at twenty-two percent.  
  
As he brought the ship around what was left of his squadron and the second TIE squadron, he saw another y-wing shot to pieces. The TIE that hit him had been facing him head on when he fired, and his lasers had pierced the cockpit, slamming straight into the pilot and killing him instantly. The pilotless craft, controls destroyed by his lasers, began to drift aimlessly away from the fight.  
  
Cursing out loud, Wes hit his comm unit. "Commander, maybe we oughta get out of here?" "I read you, five. Aces, we've done what we were sent to do. Back to base. Five, we're going to talk when we set down." 


	2. Tragedy

Title: A New Path  
  
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.  
  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Chapter 1: Tragedy  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Think we'll see any action?" Detar Sekra excitedly asked his wingmate, Tycho Celchu.  
  
Tycho frowned at the flight officer. His last wingman had died in their last engagement, only a few weeks earlier, and he had no wish to see any more fighting. "I don't know, but I hope not. We've seen enough combat already this mission," the lieutenant replied.  
  
Shaking his head, Tycho turned back to the HoloNet monitor. He'd been talking to his family and fiancé, a special call his father, an executive with - and part owner of - the major HoloNet company on his home planet of Alderaan, had arranged to celebrate his birthday. It was his first since he'd graduated from the academy and become a TIE fighter pilot. Unfortunately, the connection had been broken. He'd been trying for two hours to get it back, to no avail. "14:42," he said to Detar. Remember that."  
  
"Gonna give your dad a hard time?" his wingman asked.  
  
"You bet - if I ever get to talk to him again. I can't bring the connection back."  
  
"You will. But probably not today. Give it up, will you, and let's go get something to eat, huh?"  
  
Casting one last glance at the monitor, he stood and nodded. Together they left the room and headed down two decks to the pilots' lounge.  
  
Walking in, Tycho saw a handful of his squadron members sitting in a booth in the back corner, and the two joined the group there. The HoloNews was on, and he glanced quickly at the screen before turning his attention to the menu - a superfluous gesture because he already knew what he wanted.  
  
A droid approached to take his order and promptly departed, and Tycho turned to his friends. "Happy Birthday, kid," Setyn Klay said. He was a lieutenant, like Tycho, but was a few years older. "And may we all live to see another."  
  
"I'll drink to that, but if you keep flying the way you did in the last sim run, you probably won't," Tycho said with a grin as the serving droid set his glass of Whyren's Reserve in front of him. Birthdays were rare for TIE pilots. Their shield-less ships - and the skill of the smugglers, pirates, and rebels they fought - were not inducive to long lives.  
  
"But remember," Kev Tsenae interjected, "The longer you live, the better you get, and the better your chances of getting out of the fighters and getting to play with the big ships."  
  
Tycho shook his head. "Not interested. I like the fighters, thank you. One on one, face to face. That's the way I like to play."  
  
"Yeah, well," Detar commented, "You're good enough to do that. The rest of us who don't have your natural talent won't survive long that way."  
  
"How did a pilot like you come out of a planet that hates violence so much it shipped all its weapons out into the dark side of the galaxy?" Kev asked.  
  
He shrugged. "Not all ships have to have weaponry. And we do need to have ships. Plus, you'll notice that most Alderaanian ships are armed. Alderaanians may be pacifists, but we're also pragmatic." It was a strange statement for him, because he himself wasn't a pacifist, and he believed that those of his culture who were really weren't very practical.  
  
"What good is having guns on their ships, though, if they're not going to pull the trigger?" Kev remarked snidely.  
  
"Let's not start this argument again, huh?" Setyn interrupted. "We've had this conversation, what, twenty times in the last month? Aren't you getting tired of it by now?"  
  
"Yeah, besides," Detar chimed in, "You're supposed to be at least civil to someone on his birthday."  
  
Tycho just shook his head and sipped his drink. Setyn was right. He was getting tired of this argument - and especially of defending a point of view he really didn't agree with anyway.  
  
Suddenly, Tycho's attention was brutally wrenched back to the news by words that would forever be burned into his memory. The reporter was saying, "At just earlier than 1500 hours this afternoon, the so-called Rebel Alliance committed its greatest atrocity yet. A space station they have aptly named the "Death Star" entered Alderaanian space just over two hours ago, at which time the Repels activated an advanced new superlaser, and completely destroyed the planet of Alderaan. The pacifist world has been reduced to an asteroid field." She started to repeat herself, but Tycho was no longer hearing her words.  
  
Tycho stared at the screen as the room began to spin around him. He tried to speak, but words failed him. Then everything went black. 


	3. Awakening

Title: A New Path  
  
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.  
  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 2: Awakening  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Slowly, Tycho opened his eyes. He struggled to a sitting position and looked around, seeing that Detar was leaning against a wall not far away. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "What happened?"  
  
His wingman shifted anxiously from foot to foot. "You're in the med center. You, ah, you passed out in the lounge."  
  
"What?" Tycho started to ask, but then the words of the broadcast came back to him in a rush, and the room again began to swim out of focus.  
  
Detar noticed his friend start to sway and was by his side in an instant. "Take a deep breath, Tycho. Just try to breathe."  
  
Tycho struggled to follow his friend's instructions, and eventually regained control of his faculties, but not of his emotions, as tears slid slowly down his cheeks.  
  
Then the door slid open, and Tycho's training took over and he turned away as he tried to check his emotions. It was his commanding officer, Ishar Liat.  
  
"How are you feeling, lieutenant?" the older man asked gruffly.  
  
Tycho turned back to him and saluted. "I'll be fine, sir. Just a little light-headed."  
  
"Good. I've spoken to the doctor, and he agrees. Take the rest of the evening off, lieutenant. But be back to duty tomorrow, understood?"  
  
"Understood, sir."  
  
The commander turned to Detar. "Why don't you let the lieutenant get some rest?" He worded the statement like a suggestion, but his tone made it a direct order.  
  
"Yes, sir." Detar turned to Tycho. "Feel better, Tych." Then he followed his CO from the room, leaving Tycho alone with his thoughts - and his pain.  
  
As his mind replayed the reporter's words, it hit him. He'd been talking to his family at the exact moment they had-. He swallowed hard and his mind refused to acknowledge the word.  
  
He shook his head. Here he'd been planning to give his father a hard time about the HoloNet's failure and his parents, his sister, his fiancé were-. Again, his mind shied away from the word.  
  
And then another thought entered his head. The newscaster had said that the space station had been a rebel weapon. But that didn't make any sense.  
  
It was strongly suspected that Bail Organa had his daughter, Princess Leia, were major Rebel supporters. If that were the case, the Rebels would never risk alienating them. And the surest way to alienate them was to threaten their people.  
  
As well, the Organas would never allow it to happen. If they knew the Alliance was planning to harm Alderaan, and he was sure they would if they were involved in the Rebellion, they would put a stop to it, instantly.  
  
"No," he said aloud. "The Rebellion would never destroy Alderaan. But if it wasn't them, then who?"  
  
Just as quickly as the question had come to him, the answer hit him. "If not the Rebellion, then the Empire." The Empire certainly had motivation - teaching the Alderaanians who were supporting the Rebels a lesson would be motivation enough. And they were the only ones who would have the resources to build such a planet killer.  
  
His mind reeled with this realization. Here he was, sitting in the Med Center aboard the Victory-class Star Destroyer Inhibitor, serving the people who had killed his family, destroyed his home.  
  
He blinked back tears and thought about the steps he'd taken to get to this point. He'd seen the problems in the Empire. That was actually why he'd chosen to go to the Academy. He had known that change was necessary, but hadn't believed the Rebellion was the answer. He'd sought to affect change from within.  
  
But now he realized that that was impossible. Any government this ruthless, this evil, would never change willingly. The only way to eliminate the prejudices, corruption, and fear was to break the Empire down, once and for all. And the only way to do that was through the Rebellion.  
  
His decision made, he leaned back against the cushions of the cot and stared out the view port at the stars that dotted space. Somewhere, out among those stars, was what was left of his home. And somewhere else out there, was his future.  
  
Now all he had to do was figure out how to get there. How does an Imperial track down the Rebels? He knew that it was possible - there were others who'd done it. The Empire tried to keep word about defectors from spreading, but they couldn't silence everyone.  
  
He set aside these worries for another day. Today he had a life to mourn. He turned back to face the blank walls and, for the first time in as long as he could remember, consciously gave in to his emotions, and let the tears flow freely. He cried for the family he'd lost, the future he'd lost, and for the home he'd lost, until, exhausted, he fell into a deep, thankfully dreamless, sleep. 


	4. An Old Friend

Title: A New Path  
  
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.  
  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 3: An Old Friend  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Tycho forced a smile as he, Detar, and the rest of their squadron mates alighted from the transport shuttle. It had been a grueling six weeks since his home's destruction, and he was officially exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. The Inhibitor hadn't seen battle in those six weeks, and he was grateful. He didn't think he could have risked his life fighting for a government he no longer believed in.  
  
He was especially grateful that the Emperor hadn't seen fit to involve them in whatever had happened in the Yavin System. He'd heard that the Death Star had been destroyed there, and had secretly rejoiced upon hearing that news, though he didn't know any details - or even if the rumor was true.  
  
Now they had been given a week's leave on the planet Thyferra, and he knew this was his best chance to leave the Empire behind. If only he could figure out how to do that. He still had no idea.  
  
Just as his boot connected with the durasteel floor of the docking bay, he heard a woman calling him. "Tycho! Tycho Celchu!"  
  
Turning, he could not believe his eyes as he saw someone he hadn't seen in years. A woman in black pants and boots and a tight, sleeveless red shirt and black vest was coming toward him. Her wavy brown hair fell over her shoulders, and her petite stature was, he knew, as misleading as her model looks. As she came closer, he could see the familiar passion in her deep green eyes.  
  
He had grown up with Jesina Dreis, and knew her well. She had her Alderaanian mother's mannerisms, poise, and beauty, and her Corellian father's attitude, temper, and piloting skill.  
  
When they were fifteen, her parents had been killed when the ship they were traveling on had fallen prey to pirates. She'd left Alderaan, heading for Corellia, where her father's sister still lived. But she'd been restless, full of anger, and soon turned her skills to a typical Corellian profession - smuggling.  
  
Detar's low whistle dragged his thoughts from the past back to the present. "Who is that?" the pilot asked.  
  
"And what is a girl like that doing in a place like this?" Setyn asked.  
  
"Too dangerous," Kev chimed in. "Maybe we should, ah, offer her our protection," he suggested, raising his eyebrows comically.  
  
Tycho just shook his head and struggled to hold back his laughter. The modified heavy blaster on her right hip was not just for show, and he knew there was a vibroblade strapped to her left leg, just below the knee. He also knew that her vest concealed at least one or two other weapons, all of which she was extremely skilled with.  
  
He chuckled to himself and wondered how his friends would feel if he were to tell them that this woman was more than capable of handling herself - and had, in many rougher places than this. Or that she could fly circles around any of them.  
  
He quickly crossed the bay and enveloped her in his arms. "What are you doing here, Jes?" he whispered.  
  
"I'll explain later," she replied in a low voice. Louder she said, "When you told me you were going on leave, I thought I'd surprise you." She bit her lip and smiled coyly. "I've, ah, got a room in town," she murmured.  
  
He turned to his squadron mates, who were snickering amongst themselves. "I'll see you guys later."  
  
As he spoke, he caught Detar's eye. When the other man gave him a sad smile, Tycho knew that his wingman knew he wouldn't be back. He also knew he could count on him not to blow the whistle on him. Then he slipped his arm around Jesina's waist and walked away from the life he'd spent so long building for himself. 


	5. On The Way

Title: A New Path  
  
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.  
  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 4: On The Way  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
He was thoroughly confused by the time they'd reached the place Jesina was staying. They'd taken a speeder to one hotel, gotten out, and gone in. But instead of staying there, they went through it onto a side street, into another hotel, through that to another, and from there they'd taken another speeder to a small, nondescript house just outside the planet's capitol city.  
  
As soon as they walked in, she went straight to the back of the house. A moment later she emerged, followed by a black-haired man who was carrying a large box.  
  
As he set it down Tycho asked, "Want to tell me what's going on?"  
  
"After I heard about Alderaan, I knew you wouldn't be able to stay with the Empire. So I found out where you'd next be going planet-side, and decided to meet you, and help you get away." She paused and studied his face. "I was right, wasn't I?"  
  
He nodded, surprised that she would even ask. "Of course."  
  
"Well, we're getting off of Thyferra - and getting you away from the Empire." She opened the box and drew out a roll of bandages, a container of hair dye, and a small holdout blaster.  
  
Then Jesina straightened up and pointed at her companion. "This is Jax Tenore. He's going to pose as your brother. You're going to need to conceal your face if we want to get you out of here. So we're going to dye your hair and bandage you up. We'll tell anyone who asks that you have a strange illness and I'm providing transport for you two to Corellia to a specialist. I don't usually do passenger transport, but I've been known to make exceptions. It shouldn't catch too much attention."  
  
He smiled. "You've really got this all planned out, huh?"  
  
"Have to." She returned his smile. "I can't tell you where we're going. If things don't go as planned, the less you know, the less you can tell. I trust you with my life, but I can't ask others to do the same."  
  
She gestured to a chair and pulled a long piece of cloth out of the box. "Sit down. This won't take long."  
  
She was right. Ten minutes later, his hair was the precise shade of Jax's, and Jesina had just finished bandaging his face. She tossed him the blaster. "Here. I'll hold onto yours. It's too big to easily conceal, but I don't want you to be unarmed."  
  
He took it from her and nodded. She leaned over again, and pulled a pair of baggy, tan pants and a light blue tunic out of the crate. "You can change into these. We'll get rid of your uniform. You can use the room in back."  
  
He nodded again, and walked in the direction she and Jax had come from. As he tossed his uniform on the ground, pulling on the civilian clothes, he shook his head. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been out without a uniform. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rolled up his pant leg to strap on the blaster and holster she'd given him. Then he gathered up the clothing he'd taken off and rejoined Jesina and Jax.  
  
"All set?" she asked, taking the uniform from him.  
  
"As ready as I'll ever be."  
  
"You always were." She holstered her own blaster and slipped his into her duffel. Then she walked to the small kitchen just off the main room and stopped in front of the sink. She placed his uniform inside the sink basin and drew a lighter from a pocket. Turning to Tycho she offered him the lighter and asked, "Would you like to do the honors?"  
  
He hesitated, then shook his head. Shrugging, she turned back and flipped the switch on the lighter. As the flame appeared, she lowered it slowly, and watched as it made contact with the fabric.  
  
As the flames grew, Tycho could only stare as the flames consumed what he had always intended to become, burning the proverbial bridge behind him.  
  
Shaking off the doubts that came over him, he met Jesina's eyes and said, "I guess that's that."  
  
"Then let's go, boys."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
They caught a public speeder back to the spaceport and were soon nearing the landing bay where her ship was docked. "Captain Dreis," the guard, outside the hanger where her ship was berthed, greeted her authoritatively. "Passengers?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Jax Tenore and his brother Ley. They're headed to Corellia for a specialist for Ley. He has a very, ah, delicate condition."  
  
"Identification?" he asked curtly, taking a step back from the "brothers."  
  
She handed him the three IDs. After examining them carefully, he handed them back saying, "Have a good trip, Captain."  
  
Entering the hanger, he looked up at the ship filling the landing bay and turned, nodding his approval to Jesina. The Nightwind, as she had called it en route, was as sleek and beautiful as its owner. The Corellian Engineering YT-2400 stock cargo hauler was a sight to see, and for a moment took Tycho's breath away. His eyes following the graceful lines of the saucer-shaped hull, Tycho walked a quick circuit around the ship, as Jesina and Jax bounded up the ramp to begin preflight operations.  
  
The hull was black as a starless void, and would be difficult to spot in space with the naked eye. The engines, he soon realized, were hardly standard, being slightly larger than ships of this class typically carried, had clearly been upgraded for greater power and acceleration. On the underside of the hull, upon one of the bracing arms connecting the cockpit compartment tube to the body of the ship, a small black dome began to rotate slowly as they powered up the vessel. Tycho recognized it as a primary component to an extremely sensitive, not to mention expensive, sensor suit. Mounted on the turrets above and below the saucer section of the ship was a pair of double heavy laser cannons, hardly standard for such freighters.  
  
Finally coming full circle, he strode up the landing craft, eager to see what she could do in space. Knowing Jesina, there was more to this ship than even his militarily trained eye could catch. In typical Jesina fashion she had spared no expense in creating the ship of her dreams. Unable to help himself, despite all the concerns and doubts warring within him, Tycho strolled into the cockpit where his two companions were preparing to query the tower for take off clearance, sporting a broad grin.  
  
Catching Tycho's grin, and happy to see her old friend enjoying himself despite the immense pressures he burdened himself with, Jesina motioned to Tycho, offering him the controls, as she took up the communications gear to get their launch vector. Besides, she had always loved to watch Tycho fly.  
  
The officer in the tower gave the Nightwind her departure clearance, and Tycho's hands instinctively ran over the unfamiliar controls as if he'd been flying freighters since before he learned to walk. He brought the ship up gracefully, then brought it into a lazy arc until he was aligned for their escape vector. He throttled up, amazed with how effortlessly the ship handled and brought the ship out of the planet's gravity well in just a few minutes. As soon as he was clear he turned to Jesina, "So, now that we're out, where to?"  
  
"Let Jax take care of it, I gotta talk to you about your wardrobe." She wore that mischievous grin which she had worn all to often in their childhood on Alderaan. Tycho groaned. It seemed that every time he had seen that look as a child, events had ended with the generally straight- edged Tycho getting in trouble as the young scoundrel while Jesina looked on, laughing.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Are you sure this was really necessary?" Jesina looked at Tycho and, not for the first time, burst out laughing. The clean cut gentleman Tycho Celchu, having gone from the Alderaanian aristocracy to the imperial navy, now looked anything but distinguished. He was dressed entirely in some kind of red lizard's skin. Worn as a jumpsuit, the flesh of the face of the beast hanging down his back like a cast off hood, it was belted by a black chain. His hair, now a neon green which actually glowed in the dark, as he had discovered as Jesina lead him down one of many dark, filthy alleys of the underlevels of the Nar Shaddaa cityscape, was no longer the clean imperial regulation haircut, but instead was spiked in three lines like a triple Mohawk. One pointed straight up, another to either side. The hair in between was shaved. Tycho despised it.  
  
Jesina, still giggling, expertly guided him down the maze of corridors and walkways. Nar Shaddaa reminded Tycho of the worst parts of Coruscant, where Tycho had attended the Imperial Academy. Although, where the giant city planet, the imperial capital city, had housed majestic skyscrapers like the Imperial Palace, Nar Shaddaa was all filth and decay. The city looked like a nightmarish twin to Coruscant, buildings showing scars from recent firefights, a fact not surprising considering the moon's typical residents.  
  
Nar Shaddaa was the city moon of Nal Hutta, home of the Hutts, huge slug- like crime bosses. The moon was home to smugglers, bounty hunters, and criminals of every sort. In short, it was a haven for the scum of the universe. Not for the first time, Tycho wondered what they were doing here.  
  
Jesina led him onto a small lift platform, the thick coating of rust and muck hiding whatever the original materials may have been. Their course had been roundabout, and Tycho had long since lost track of their path, which he supposed had been her intention all a long. The lift raised them about twenty floors. She lead him down another series of walkways until they approached a bar, a worn holo-sign identifying it as The Forlorn Hope.  
  
It was dimly lit, the only lights being the blinding spotlights shining down from above the bar in the center of the circular club. The floor was duracrete tiling, stained with the blood of various species from the all too common bar brawls. All around the walls were round booths built into the walls. Dim, red lighting panels lined the tables, and curtains were hung from above, permitting the patrons some measure of privacy in which to conduct their, all to often, shady business. In the air clung the acrid smoke of an amalgam of illicit narcotics.  
  
Jesina led him to the bar where she ordered them a pair of drinks which smelled like reactor coolant, and tasted even worse. She then took a meandering course towards a booth in the back of the bar. Drawing back the curtains just enough to pass, they took their seats. In front of them, nursing a drink of his own sat an alien Tycho recognized as a Bothan.  
  
Tycho made an effort to take in as many details as he could. The Bothan's fur was gray, though he had black stripes all over his body. His face was a mask of black, except for white around the left eye. As he moved, his fur rippled - possibly the Bothan version of the way a human tensed up when confronted by a possible threat.  
  
"Tycho Celchu, meet Eskrit Gil'fra. He's involved in recruitment for the Rebellion, especially of former Imperials," Jesina said. "Eskrit, this is Tycho Celchu. He's an old friend."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Tycho said, holding out his hand.  
  
The Bothan didn't return the gesture. "I wouldn't want to taint your Imperial hand with the touch of an alien." he replied with a sneer Now tell me why I should trust you. Tell me why the Rebellion should trust you," was his greeting.  
  
Tycho was taken aback, and for a moment didn't know what to say. Finally he said, "I can't give you a reason, I guess."  
  
"Well, that's not good enough."  
  
Again, he was surprised by the cold manner, though, he supposed, he really shouldn't be. The Rebels had to be careful. It was impossible to tell who might be an Imperial agent. Tycho thought for a minute. "The Empire killed my family. And I want the chance to pay them back for that. And I know Jesina. And I would never do anything to harm her."  
  
"Do you know how many times I've heard that?" the Bothan asked.  
  
"Probably twice for every wanted man who walks into this place in a day," Tycho replied. "But it's the best answer I can give you, because it's the truth. The day the Empire destroyed Alderaan, they lost my allegiance. I knew there were problems before -- that's why I joined the Empire in the first place. But after Alderaan I realized that things were a lot more out of control than I thought they were." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and blinked back tears. "If you don't believe me, you don't believe me. There's nothing I can do about it."  
  
"Heh! A fine speech, boy, where'd you read it? I've been around and then some, and if you think some cockamamie story like that is gonna convince me, you've got another thing coming." Turning to Jesina he added, "What were you thinking brining this scum here? He couldn't be more obvious if he had "Imperial Spy" tattooed on his furless forehead. You know better than to bring someone for a face to face before I've okayed it. You said you wanted to meet, you didn't say anything about Lieutenant Do-right over here."  
  
Jesina glowered. "You haven't even given him a chance! Eskrit, he was talking to his family when Alderaan was destroyed. In a day's time he lost everything. I'm trying to help him rebuild his life."  
  
"And what does your little pet project have to do with me?" Eskrit replied with a growl.  
  
Tycho held up a hand. "Wait, Jes. I never let you fight my battles when we were growing up, and I'm not about to start now." He turned to the Bothan. "Jesina and I grew up together. She knew, as soon as she heard about Alderaan, that that would be it for me. And she knew I'd need help getting away. So she helped me do it." He stood and ran a hand through what little was left of his hair. "Somehow, I guess I thought the Rebels would be a little more understanding. Apparently, I was wrong." He turned his attention back to Jesina. "This is a waste of time. I'll figure something out for myself, Jes. Just drop me on some backwater world and I'll take care of myself. Let's get out of here."  
  
Casting a last glance at the cantankerous Bothan, he shook his head and stalked out of the bar. He barely made it through the door when he felt a hand on his arm. He knew it was Jesina, and he knew what she was going to say, so he didn't stop, or even turn around.  
  
But she stopped him. Giving him a hard yank, she spun him around to face her. "You're right. I didn't fight your battles for you when we were kids. But I didn't have to, because you fought them yourself. You stood up for yourself. Not once did I see you walk away from anything you really wanted or believed in. Did the Academy change you that much?"  
  
He glared. "What do you want from me?" He flung his arm toward the door, in the general direction of the table they'd been at. "He's not going to listen to me. He clearly doesn't believe me, or what you say about me."  
  
"Can you blame him? Welcome to reality, Tycho. You went through the Imperial Academy. You've flown against -- and killed -- Rebel pilots. You served the Empire loyally. Yes, we've had a lot of people come over to our side who served the Empire even more than you did, people who served us loyally. But we've also had people slip through and betray us. Especially now, now that we've had a major victory, we've got to be careful. I know you, and I trust you. But can you honestly expect someone who has seen as much as he has to just take you on my say so? To just take you at your word?"  
  
His shoulders slumped, defeated. "I understand your point. I realize you have to be careful. But I don't know what to do. How am I supposed to convince him?"  
  
"Who knows? But you will, because you have to." She took his hand and gently pulled him back into the dimly lit establishment, guiding him silently back to their booth.  
  
The Bothan was still there, his drink no more empty than it had been when they'd walked away. He regarded Tycho coolly, then said, "That was quite a display." He turned to Jesina. "You believe in him, that's your business. But it's on your shoulders. When he turns out to be a traitor, the deaths he causes will be on your conscience, not mine." Eskrit glanced quickly at his chrono. "I'll meet you on your ship in fourteen hours. Do not try to find me before then." He stood, and disappeared into the crowd almost instantly. 


	6. Altercation

Title: A New Path  
  
Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.  
  
Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 5: Altercation  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Tycho walked silently beside Jesina as she led him back to the ship. He was following her automatically -- he didn't want to get lost on this damned moon -- but his mind was too full of a medley of thoughts to really pay much attention.  
  
He couldn't help but rethink his decision to leave the Empire. He couldn't go back now, of course, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was the right choice. Order and discipline had always been driving forces in his life. The military had really been perfect for him. But now, not only had he left the strict regimen of the Imperial Navy, but he was also on the run from the legitimate government he'd served and on his way to joining the outlaw rebel movement he'd been fighting against only weeks earlier. Provided that Bothan didn't decide to space him on the way to wherever they were heading.  
  
He couldn't help but wonder how he'd fit in. He couldn't imagine the rebels being nearly as structured as the Empire had been, so that alone would be a major change in his life. But that was not his only concern.  
  
He was an Imperial. As much as he hated to admit it, he was. Or, at least, he had been. How would the Rebels look at him? Would they distrust him as much as Gil'fra had?  
  
A firm grip on his arm yanked him out of his thoughts. "I'm fine, Jes," he began to say automatically, before realizing that the person holding onto him was definitely not Jesina. He realized it too late, though -- as one arm snaked around his throat, another grabbed his blaster from the holster on his hip.  
  
A few meters ahead he could just make out Jesina, in a similar position, struggling wildly against two attackers, both human. They had already disarmed her of both her blaster and the vibroblade on her leg, and were trying to pin her against the wall of the alley, their lecherous grins telling Tycho all he needed to know about their plans for his old friend. "Stop struggling boy, you do what we say and you just might get out of this alive." The gravelly voice of his attacker grated in Tycho's ear. The man clearly knew a thing or two about fighting, and had both of Tycho's arms pinned behind him. "All we want are your credits. Well that's all we want from you; looks like my buddies have other plans for your friend." His voice trailed off into a quiet cackle of laughter, and Tycho saw that Jesina would not be able to fight off both attackers for long, her arms held as they were.  
  
With a cry of rage and frustration, Tycho slammed his head backwards connecting solidly with his attackers face. Stunned for a moment, the man loosened his grip on Tycho long enough for him to make a grab for his blaster, which was still in his attacker's hand. The man had recovered however, and fought wildly to hold onto the blaster.  
  
The two men, both gripping the same weapon, soon crashed to the ground, each trying to wrestle the gun away from the other. Blaster bolts splayed wildly across the wall on the far side of the alley, as the weapon went off repeatedly in the struggle. Tycho was unable to see where they struck, for he was whipped around the opposite way, as the two continued to roll along the ground striving for the upper hand in this struggle for the weapon.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Several bolts narrowly missed ending Jesina's struggle as they exploded into the wall mere inches from her face. The blasts did manage to startle one of her opponents long enough for her to lash out with her left leg, connecting solidly with the man's groin and removing him from the fight -- at least temporarily. Unable to regain her balance on one leg, with the second thug still struggling to hold her arms, she fell, hard, crashing into the duracrete pavement. The weight of her assailant falling on top of her forced the air from her lungs.  
  
Her attacker took immediate advantage of the situation, and with her momentarily stunned he let go of one of her arms, and hit her with a devastating right hook. As her head snapped back, cracking against the hard ground, her vision darkened for a moment, and she was left dizzy. When she managed to regain her senses a moment later, the would-be robber had her discarded vibroblade in hand, and was bringing it down toward her chest, intending to impale her with her own weapon.  
  
Jesina made a desperate grab, attempting to push the weapon up and to the side, to avoid the dangerous blade, but her assailant was too strong and all she could manage was a stalemate, which she knew she could not maintain for long. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man she had kicked regaining his feet tentatively. No, she could not maintain this long at all.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Tycho struggled with all his might to wrest the weapon away, but he could tell it was a losing battle. Recovered now from Tycho's initial head butt, the attacker was beginning to gain the advantage, being physically much stronger than Tycho. Tycho now spent more time simply trying to keep the barrel of the blaster pointed away from his body than trying to actually wrench away the weapon.  
  
With a sudden heave from the attacker, Tycho's grip on the weapon faltered, and before he could make another grab for the blaster, the assailant lashed out, striking Tycho's temple with the barrel of the gun and sending him to his knees. The attacker, enraged now, with blood flowing freely from his probably broken nose, took aim at Tycho, intending to end this here and now.  
  
From behind the Alderaanian, suddenly the air erupted with a primal howl that shook Tycho to his very bones. Surprised that he was not yet dead, Tycho looked at the man with blaster, and saw a look of sheer terror cross the man's face for a split second before a solid mass of fur flashed through the air, slamming into the man like a living avalanche.  
  
The blaster went flying, and Tycho dove to retrieve it , as he heard the sickening crack of shattering bones behind him. Not bothering to look to discover the fate of the man he had been fighting, nor the identity of his rescuer, the now armed Tycho took aim and fired three quick blasts into the man who, Tycho discovered, was trying to skewer Jesina with her own blade. The third and final assailant took off at a run, an awkward gait following Jesina's kick. Tycho let the man go, certain that he no longer posed any threat, and turned to look at what was left of the man who had grabbed him. He was clearly dead, one arm torn nearly entirely off, and his neck at an impossible angle for a living being.  
  
Holstering his blaster, he ran to Jesina, who had just pushed the body of her attacker off of her, where he'd fallen when Tycho shot him. She stood shakily, with his support, and they both turned to see their savior.  
  
Tycho's jaw dropped. The being to whom he owed his life stood more than two meters tall. It was a Wookie. He'd had a lot of experience with the alien race; the Empire had found use for the strong, mechanically inclined beings as slaves. As it moved into the light, Tycho could see that it was covered in black fur, broken only by streaks of brown and gray. He could also see the marks that identified it as a former slave -- there were slashes that cut through the being's fur where he could see bare flesh, from too many beatings with an energy whip.  
  
"Kowladda!" Jesina exclaimed, eyes widening in grateful recognition. "Am I glad to see you!" She took a step forward, but faltered and fell to her knees.  
  
Tycho knelt beside her and wouldn't allow her to stand. "No. You won't make it back to the ship like this," he told her gently. "I'll carry you."  
  
But the Wookie -- Kowladda, he reminded himself -- pushed him aside. He guessed that the gesture was meant to be a gentle one, but it still sent him sprawling. As Tycho got to his feet, he saw that their rescuer had Jesina in his -- or was it her? -- arms, and was apparently waiting for Tycho to act as guide.  
  
Well, that wasn't going to work. He glanced at Jesina and opened his mouth, but from the way her head lolled against the furry chest, he knew she'd passed out. Probably she was hurt worse than she'd ever admit.  
  
He looked helplessly at the Wookie. Finally he asked, "Do you understand Basic?"  
  
The being whuffled and nodded its large head. "Good. Then you'll understand when I say I don't know where to go?"  
  
It nodded again and gave a low growl. Finally, it turned without a word and began to walk away, Jesina cradled in its arms. As he ran to catch up to -- and keep up with -- Kowladda, Tycho realized quickly that the Wookie was taking them down a road he hadn't seen before. The buildings they were passing were gradually becoming more and more dilapidated than the ones he'd seen already -- if that were even possible.  
  
Finally it stopped in front of one of the most ill-cared-for buildings Tycho thought he'd ever seen in his life. There was no door in front, just a frame that indicated that there had been one there at one time. The only light was from a post about fifty meters away, so he couldn't make out much more than slight shadows. Shrugging uneasily, he followed Kowladda inside.  
  
With one hand the Wookie slapped at the wall, and a dim light in the corner of the main room came on. Kowladda gently placed Jesina on the sagging sofa against the rear wall, and disappeared from the room. Looking around and growing ever more doubtful about their chances of getting off this moon with each of them in one piece, Tycho walked over and perched beside Jesina.  
  
He lifted her head slowly and ran a hand underneath. He felt a lump beginning to form, and his hand came away wet and slick with blood. He shook his head. Maybe it was a good thing that she'd passed out. This way he actually knew how badly she'd been hurt. 


	7. Bothans!

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 6: Bothans!

---------------

Tycho had taken advantage of Jesina's lack of consciousness to clean her wounds. She'd had a nice gash on the back of her head, and a couple shallow cuts from her struggle over the vibroblade. She'd stirred slightly a couple of times, and gasped from the pain more than once, but she hadn't woken up, and he was glad. He'd watched her sleep for a while and then fallen asleep himself.

He was awakened by the sound of someone – he guessed it was Kowladda – shuffling around in the back. A quick glance at his chrono told him that they had an hour and a half until they had to meet that blasted Bothan. That was going to be so much fun.

Time to wake Jesina. Ugh. Given the choice between dealing with Gil'fra or whatever his name was, and waking her up, he wasn't sure which he'd choose. Jesina had told her about some friend of hers who worked for the same smuggler she'd been running cargo for who had tried to wake her up. According to her, he was more experienced than she was, and she'd damn near killed him before she was even fully awake. He didn't have much choice, though.

"Jes?" He said her name softly first, then louder, but got no response. Finally he reached over and brushed her dark hair, having come loose from her braid during the fight, out of her eyes, and then shook her less-injured shoulder. "Wake up, Jes."

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him, surprise mixing with sudden fear as she scurried backward away from him into the corner of the decrepit sofa. He held up his hands. "It's only me."

She looked around, eyes flicking from place to place quickly. "We're at Kowladda's," she said finally, satisfied that they weren't in any immediate danger. "Kowladda!" she yelled, and Tycho shushed her.

"Relax, Tycho," she retorted. "Kowladda's well known around here. No one is going to be harmed by my yelling for him."

"What if the couple of guys who got away last night followed us or something?"

She shook her head, laughing at him. "If they were that stupid, they wouldn't have survived here this long. Chances are, they didn't live through the night, if Kowladda had anything to say about it. Like I said, he's well known around here. People know not to tangle with him." She studied him for a moment. No one could say the Empire didn't train their people well for battle, but none of the ones she'd met seemed to have the street smarts to stay alive on their own. Even those that she'd run across who had come from tougher areas of the galaxy – the Outer Rim, some parts of Corellia – seemed to have lost something in their training. Tycho was no exception. Though he hadn't had a rough childhood, he'd had more sense than this. "Kowladda!" she called the Wookie again.

"Rowr," he mumbled, coming into the room. He huffed at her, and she held up a hand, laughing.

"You have my apologies," she told him. "It's just that we're kind of in a hurry."

He whuffled at her, finishing with another "Rowr," and Tycho watched the exchange with frustration as she laughed again.

Sensing his confusion, Jesina turned to him. "Kowladda says that he knows why we're in a hurry. Apparently he talked to Eskrit. He says that I'd better get you off Nar Shaddaa before you cause any more trouble."

"Me?" he exclaimed. "I didn't do anything."

She laughed at him again. "Don't be so sensitive, Tych. He knows it wasn't your fault." She glanced back to Kowladda. "Who were they?" More indecipherable growling – indecipherable to Tycho, anyway. Jesina apparently understood him just fine. "Thanks." She looked back to Tycho. "He said they were second-rate thugs who won't bother anyone again. And he says you did good against them, for a human."

Tycho looked at the Wookie. "Thank you." He wanted to tell the being that he was sorry for what he had obviously gone through at Imperial hands, and for what other members of his race were still enduring. But he couldn't find the words, and, given Gil'fra's reaction to him the night before, doubted the Wookie would accept the apology. Instead he glanced at his chrono. "We need to get going."

She nodded. "Kowladda, can you take us back to my ship?"

The large creature nodded its furry head. He came forward and pushed a package into Jesina's hands, then motioned for them to follow him out the door.

---------------

Eskrit was already waiting on board the _Nightwind_ when they reached the ship. "You're early," he hissed, eyes lighting on Tycho, as if they'd done something wrong and it was entirely his fault.

Unwilling to deal with the belligerent Bothan and wondering if all the Bothans – or all the Rebels – were so difficult, Tycho met his glare. "So are you," he retorted, heading for the cockpit, missing the surprised look on the Rebel's face.

Jesina didn't miss Gil'fra's reaction. "He's learning," she told him.

"What happened to you?" the Bothan asked, ignoring her comment and looking her up and down, taking in the bruises.

"You talked to Kowladda," she reminded him. "Don't play stupid; I'm not going to fall for it. And before you ask, it wasn't Tycho's fault. He nearly got himself killed trying to save us both, when he could have just run, and it actually would have been healthier for him if he had."

"So I heard. So he's an Imperial and he's stupid."

She shook her head, amused. "It's a wonder you've managed to recruit anyone, with that attitude."

He shrugged at her. "Look at it this way. If they're willing to put up with me, they must be sincere."

"You know, if you keep on his case like this, he's going to be ready to kill you. And I just might let him."

"Don't play cruel," he replied. "I'm not going to fall for it." He tossed her words back at her.

"Ah, but I'm not playing." She turned away from him to help Tycho with the start-up.

Tycho was pacing around the cockpit, occasionally kicking the base of the co-pilot's seat. "Hey!" she scolded him. "What did my ship ever do to you?"

"Sorry." He dropped into the chair and glared in the direction of the main compartment. "Are they all like that?"

"Bothans? Mostly," she shrugged. "It's their culture to be suspicious, competitive, arrogant, and underhanded." She got a mischievous glint in her eye. "Basically, if you take the worst characteristics of pilots and Imperials and put them together – and add fur – you get a Bothan. Some of them are nice. But don't bet on meeting any of the nice ones."

She sat down and hit a few buttons to begin the automated start-up sequence. "He's coming around. All you have to do is put up with him and give it right back to him, like you just did. Plus, Kowladda talked to him, which I'm sure went a long way to convincing him that you aren't all bad."

Tycho was still irritable. "Let's not talk about this anymore. Where are we headed?"

"I don't know yet. Eskrit will tell me once we get off the moon, and probably out of the system. For now, I'm just going to make a micro-jump."

He nodded, understanding their need to be careful, but still not liking it. "When can I put on normal clothes? And get my real hair back?"

She looked at him innocently. "You mean, you don't want to leave it that way? I think it's really you."

He scowled. "Your smuggler friends have rubbed off on you."

"And they'll do the same to you," she retorted. "I'll wash the dye out and you can change your clothes once we're actually on course." She looked at him slyly. "That's IF you let me take a holo of you."

He shook his head vehemently. "No way. No. I'm not letting you humiliate me for all posterity."

She laughed at him as he turned away, face as red as the clothes she'd made him wear, to get on with his part of start-up. "I don't know who's worse, you or him," he muttered.


	8. First Encounter

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 7: First Encounter

---------------

After Eskrit had programmed the navcomputer and they were safely in hyperspace, he finally told Jesina where, exactly, they were headed. "Exocron?" she repeated, surprised. "Couldn't get much further from the Core if they tried."

"They have tried," he replied. "This is only a small outpost. A few fighter squadrons, the occasional capital ship or two, and a significant cache of supplies – supplies you'll be expected to help transport once we find a new base. No one has paid the planet any mind since around the time of the Old Republic, except for the people that live there – who don't much care what we do – so we more or less come and go as we please. Even if the Emperor knew we were there, he'd be hard pressed to find us."

"Fighter squadrons, huh? You wouldn't happen to know where Red Squadron is, would you?" Red squadron was an x-wing squadron. Her uncle, Garven Dreis, was the squadron's leader, and she knew a couple of the pilots well. One, Wedge Antilles, she'd met when they both were smuggling for Booster Terrik. Through Wedge and her uncle, she'd gotten to know many of them well.

He turned to her, something resembling sympathy in his eyes. "I had hoped you'd heard."

She suddenly felt cold. "Heard what?"

"The Alliance was able to obtain the plans to the space station that destroyed Alderaan. They launched an attack that Red Squadron was a part of. They were able to destroy it, but the squadron sustained heavy casualties. Only Antilles and another man, a substitute for Janson – he was ill and unable to fly – survived. I'm sorry." For all his attitude on Nar Shaddaa, he seemed genuinely compassionate now.

Tycho had been watching from the doorway. He didn't know what connection Jesina had to these people, but it was clearly a strong one. She looked as if someone had punched her in the stomach. But then, just as quickly, the pain was gone from her eyes. "I knew it could happen. So did my uncle." She bit her lip and turned away. "Do you know where they are now?"

"They are headed for Exocron. They should arrive a day or two after we do."

"That's why you're bringing us there."

He nodded. "It's not entirely a gesture of goodwill." Gil'fra glanced back at Tycho, and Jesina noticed his presence for the first time. "If he can survive Antilles and Janson right now – and the starfighter commander they've assigned there – I'll be satisfied."

"What's going on?" Tycho finally asked, looking at Jesina's drawn expression with concern.

"Nothing for you to worry about, boy," Gil'fra snapped.

Tycho clenched his teeth but nodded. "Fine. I'll be in the cabin." He spun on his heel and stalked out of the cockpit, hoping he'd never have to see the Bothan again after this trip.

Jesina watched him go, then shot Gil'fra a scathing look. "There's no need to treat him like that."

"He shouldn't be sticking that noble nose of his where it doesn't belong."

She stood, finally tired of dealing with him. "He wasn't. He simply saw that what you told me upset me, and he was worried. It won't kill you to at least me civil to him."

"It might," he retorted as she shook her head and went after Tycho.

He looked up at her as she approached. "I don't suppose spacing him would go very far toward endearing me to the Rebellion?"

Jesina gave him a small smile. "Among some, it might." She paused. "How long were you standing there?"

"I heard him say that someone would be arriving where we're going a day or two after we get there."

She nodded. "The survivors of a squadron that flew against the Death Star. They went by the designation Red Squadron. My uncle was their commander."

"Was?"

She nodded again, looking pained. "Eskrit just told me he was killed in the battle."

"I'm sorry." He knew from his own experience that there wasn't much he could say that would actually make her feel any better. She hadn't used platitudes on him, and he wasn't going to on her.

She sat down, sighing. "He died for a reason, though. They destroyed the Death Star.

Tycho stared at her in disbelief. Surely, there was some mistake. How could the Rebels have destroyed a space station with enough firepower to blow up an entire planet? "How?" he asked.

"I don't know. All I know is that ten people I knew well are dead. And you can count on not having a very warm welcome."

"I wasn't expecting one anyway – your friend in there," he jerked his thumb toward the cockpit, "pretty much erased all illusions to that effect." He paused, not sure if he'd be out of line. "Tell me about them?"

She looked surprised. "What do you want to know?"

He shrugged. "Anything you feel like telling me. You haven't really talked much."

Jesina suppressed a bitter laugh. "And this surprises you?"

"Well, no, but..." he trailed off, looking a little hurt.

She instantly felt bad. "I'm sorry. Really, what do you want to know?"

"Why don't you start with who I'm going to be meeting," he suggested. "If they're going to want to shoot me on sight – which you seem to have suggested a few minutes ago – I'd at least like to have an idea about what I'm getting myself into."

She smiled. "I don't think any amount of warning or description can truly prepare you for these two."

He suddenly looked much less sure of himself, and she laughed at his distress. "They aren't that bad. Wedge will give you a run for your credits as far as being protective of me, though."

"What, he doesn't think you can take care of yourself?"

"No. He knows I can. But then, so do you, and that never stopped you, now did it?"

"No, I suppose not," Tycho admitted. "Wedge, huh? Corellian?"

"As they come," she replied.

"A smuggler?" he guessed, and she nodded.

"He was. He's the one who dragged me into working with the Alliance. He's one of the best fighter pilots we've got – if not the best. He's had it rough, and he's worked hard to get past what he's been through. Not to mention he's just lost a lot of friends. So don't be surprised if he's hard on you at first. He's really a good man."

"How good?" Tycho asked, eyebrow raised suggestively.

"Tycho!" she exclaimed. Then she shook her head. "Corrupted by a year or so of Imperial service. What a shame."

"As opposed to you, Ms. Dreis, who was already plenty corrupt by the time you fell in with smugglers."

She went on the defensive. "I'll have you know, most of the smugglers I've met are perfect gentlemen."

"Yes, I'm sure," he retorted. "Right up until they shoot you."

She laughed and gave him a playful shove. "Seriously, though, Wedge IS a good guy."

"I believe you," he replied. "What about the other guy? Janson, was it?"

She hesitated. "Janson might be a little more difficult. He's a joke – a real wise guy – and he sometimes takes it a little too far."

"That doesn't seem so bad."

"It's not. That's not the problem. Janson's got a history – one I don't know much about, and I'm not sure how much anyone else does, either. And – whether this is related or not, I don't know – he tends to have an intense dislike of Imperials."

"Great." He shook his head. "I'm beginning to feel like I'm walking to my own execution."

"You just defected from the Imperial Navy," she reminded him. "You're a traitor. If they catch us, you might as well be."

---------------

"Unidentified freighter," a voice crackled over the ship's comm unit. "Transmit identification and clearance code now."

"Captain Dreis of the _Nightwind_," Jesina replied, hitting a few keys. "Transmitting identification, clearance, and protocol now."

"Protocol?" Tycho asked as they waited to be cleared to land.

She didn't meet his eyes. "It's standard," she replied evasively.

He frowned. She might be telling the truth. This was, after all, the Rebel Alliance, and their status was more than enough reason to do things differently. Still, something didn't sit right with him. And the way she refused to look at him made him all the more certain that something was wrong.

"_Nightwind_, you're cleared to land. Maintain current heading and wait for further instructions."

---------------

The planet they'd landed on – he still hadn't been told the name – was beautiful. The area where the Rebel outpost was located seemed to be surrounded on all sides by forest. It was sunny, but still cool, and the sky was a strange color.

Marring the view were the two men who seemed to be the Alliance's version of military police waiting at the foot of the _Nightwind_'s boarding ramp. The first sign that they were more than a simple welcoming committee was when one of them drew his blaster. "Take his weapon, Agent Gil'fra" The Bothan drew the blaster form Tycho's holster and handed it to one of the officers while the other put binders on Tycho's wrists as the Alderaanian stood there, stunned. "Come with us, Lieutenant Celchu," the second man said as another man approached them.

The new arrival turned to Jesina. "Captain Dreis, I'm Commander Narra. I'll escort you to your quarters." She nodded, and didn't look at Tycho as he was escorted away.

---------------

The commander didn't say another word until they were in her quarters – a small room with a single window and a shared refresher down the hall. Once inside he said softly, "I wanted to extend my sympathies on Garven Dreis' death. I understand that you were a relative of his?"

She sat down on the stark, military-issue cot. "Yes. His niece." She studied this man carefully. "Did you know my uncle?"

He nodded. "I flew with him a few times. He was a good man, an excellent pilot, and very well respected by everyone who knew him."

"Thank you." She paused. "Are you an x-wing pilot?"

"Yes. A few pilots will be here in a day or two to help me begin to form a new squadron – the surviving members of your uncle's unit."

"Yes, Eskrit told me." She looked apprehensive. "Have you seen them?"

"No, I haven't. They've been running around the galaxy for the month and a half since the battle at Yavin."

"Yavin?"

"The battle against the Death Star," he clarified.


	9. A Force to be Reckoned With

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 8: A Force to be Reckoned With

---------------

The next two days – two days in which Jesina was ordered to have no contact with Tycho, who was being held in a cell somewhere underground in the small base – passed very slowly. Jesina spent most of the time wandering around the outpost, familiarizing herself with it, and trying to figure out what she was going to say to Tycho. She'd talked to a few of the command staff there, and what they'd told her wasn't going to go a long way toward fixing things with her friend.

On the morning of the third day, Narra – who seemed to have disappeared off the face of the planet after her first meeting with him – knocked on her door. "Would you like to see the lieutenant?"

She nodded curtly, and picked a datapad up off her cot. "Yes, please." She didn't have a problem with Narra. He seemed nice enough, more like a professional officer than many of the Rebels. But she also didn't have any real desire to get to know the man, either. "Any word on the Red Squadron officers?" she asked as they walked toward the main building.

"The last I heard was yesterday. They should be here by mid-day, if not sooner than that." There was a formal, core-world edge to his voice, something she knew slipped through in her speech from time to time, and was blatant in Tycho's voice.

"Good." She was looking forward to seeing Wedge and Janson, and wanted to talk to Wedge about Tycho.

Narra stopped just inside. "Down the stairs, first door on the right. The door leads to a small cellblock, and there's a guard posted outside. He knows to expect you."

"Thank you, commander."

He gave her a brisk nod and turned to leave. Jesina watched him go. Narra would be an interesting man, she felt, if anyone got to know him. She doubted anyone did. He struck her as the type of commanding officer who distanced himself from his men to keep from feeling their loss.

She descended the old stairwell, wondering what this compound had once been – it was definitely something the Alliance had stumbled across, not something they'd haphazardly put together.

Nodding to the guard, she handed him her identification. "Blaster, please, ma'am," he said, holding out a hand. She handed it to him and took her ID back. "Do you have any other weapons, ma'am?"

"Yes." She leaned over and rolled up her pant leg, drawing her vibroblade, and straightened. She handed it to him handle first. "That's all."

He nodded. "Go ahead, Captain."

Jesina opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit cellblock. Tycho was, as she'd expected, the only person there. "Hello."

He looked up at her quickly, and then turned away. "What do you want?"

"I came to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine. For being a prisoner, anyway."

"You're not – well, yes, you are a prisoner. But it's not like that."

"Oh, really." The words dripped with sarcasm.

"Yes, really." She frowned at him in frustration. "Tycho, even you couldn't be so naïve as to think that they'd simply welcome you with open arms. You want to know why Eskrit was so difficult? Because the two people he's brought over since Yavin turned out to be traitors. They have to be careful. Do you really blame them?"

"No. I blame you, for not telling me, for not warning me." He finally met her eyes. "That's what the protocol thing was about, when we landed."

Jesina nodded. "I'm sorry. Eskrit only told me a few minutes before you came into the cockpit. And even if he'd told me in advance, I couldn't have warned you. Even once they found out for certain that you weren't a spy, they'd have been able to charge me, if they wanted to."

Tycho's eyes narrowed. "Just how long will it be until they find out that I'm not a spy?"

"I don't know." She handed him the datapad. "This isn't helping."

He glanced at it. It was a copy of an Imperial personnel record. He saw his name, listed as missing in action. "Missing?"

She nodded again. "Not defected. There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for it – Thyferra may be friendly to the Empire, but there are people there who hate it. It's possible they think you might have been kidnapped. It's also possible that they've taken to not identifying people as defectors, because they don't want anyone to realize how many they're losing."

"What does it matter how they identify me? It's perfectly reasonable," he put a snide twist to her words, "to think they would falsify records on me if I was a spy."

"That's true. It's just taking more time, Tycho. Not much longer, I don't think."

His reply was forestalled by the chime of her comlink. She pulled it from her vest pocket. "Dreis here."

"Captain, Red Squadron has begun approach."

"Thank you. Dreis out."

Tycho raised an eyebrow. "Captain?"

"Because of my ship," she replied. "It's not a military title." She hesitated. "I've got to go meet them. I'll do whatever I can to get this taken care of, Tycho. I promise."

"Go," he replied, still annoyed, but not as angry as he had been.

Jesina nodded and left the cellblock, collecting her blaster and vibroblade on her way out, and then made her way up the stairs.

She walked briskly through the mostly empty halls of the compound toward the hangar, and was there in time to watch as they landed. There were four fighters, and a small shuttle.

She made herself useful, guiding – with some effort – a ladder over to the nearest fighter as the pilot powered down. It was Wedge's ship, and she caught the look of surprise that crossed his face as he saw her standing at the bottom. "Escort duty, Antilles?" she called up to him.

He scrambled down the ladder, catching her in a tight embrace and lifting her off the floor. "How are you?" he asked her hair.

She laughed and pushed him back. "Talk to my face, not my head. I'm all right. Who are you escorting?"

"Not really escort duty. We ran into the general at our last stop, a few days back, and he was heading this way too, so we flew together."

"The general?" she repeated.

"He nodded. Cracken, the Intelligence guy?"

"I know the name." She'd also met him, but wasn't going to tell Wedge that. She glanced over at the other pilots, now that they were all out of their ships. She saw a man she didn't recognize. "That Skywalker?" She nodded toward a slim young man with a mop of light brown hair on his head.

He nodded. "I see you heard about Yavin?" It was the only way she could have known Luke's name. "I wanted to tell you myself. But we've spent the time since the battle – somewhere around three months – all over the place, without much downtime."

"Three months? Narra said one and a half."

"It's been almost three. It actually took a while for the news to get out, hard as that might be to believe. No one really knew what happened at Yavin until some time after the battle. Yavin's so out of the way that no one but the people who were there who knew what had happened, and we were all caught up in evacuating. And the Empire sure as Sith wasn't telling anyone." He paused, remembering she'd mentioned their new commander's name. "You've met him?"

She nodded. "He was here when I arrived. And don't feel badly about not being able to tell me. I heard about it from Eskrit on the trip here."

"Gil'fra?" Wedge asked, surprised. "Since when did you get into the recruiting business?"

"I'm not. I just bought a friend of mine over."

"Over?" he asked. "An Imperial?"

"Ex-Imperial," she corrected, and he looked properly abashed. "But they haven't figured that out yet. He's being held in a cell downstairs. I need to talk—"

"Dreis? Jesina Dreis?" Wes Janson's exuberant voice rang through the hangar. "Fancy meeting you here, milady." He leaned forward in a deep bow, but hadn't stopped walking yet, so he ended up flat on the floor. The two men walking behind him – Luke, and another pilot she'd met a handful of times – burst into laughter. Wedge was laughing so hard that a few tears fell from his eyes.

Jesina shook her head, stifling a laugh. "My hero," she remarked, taking a step forward and holding her hand out to him. "Want some help, Janson?"

He took it and pulled, hard, bringing her to her knees beside him. Then he took her face in his hands and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Good to see you again, Dreis."

She rolled her eyes and, leaving him to get up on his own, took Wedge's proffered hand and got to her feet. "Same old Janson," she remarked. But once he was on his feet and they'd all stopped laughing, she saw something in his eyes that seemed different from the last time she'd seen him, something that made her reconsider her assessment of the pilot from Tanaab.

"What have you been up to, Dreis?" the other man she'd recognized asked.

"Little bit of everything, Klivian. How about you?" Hobbie Klivian had flown with Red Squadron for a while – that was how she'd met him – before being temporarily reassigned to another squadron that was hurting for people.

"The same, I guess. But I've probably crashed more times than you have."

She laughed outright. The Raltiirian pilot was known for his less-than-stellar luck. He was a good pilot, but tended to have any number of problems keeping his ship intact just the same. "Probably."

Just then, the General she and Wedge had been talking about approached them. "Lieutenants," he acknowledged the pilots. "Captain Dreis, I presume?" Jesina could see in the man's face that he remembered her from their previous meeting, but that he had no intention of telling Wedge and the others that.

"Yes, sir."

He nodded, and turned back to the pilots. "Thank you for the escort, gentlemen. I'm sure I'll see you again before I leave." With that, he turned and followed his staff officer out of the hangar.

"I don't like that man," Hobbie commented as they watched him leave.

"Most people don't," Jesina replied. "But he's good at his job – the best there is, outside of Imperial Intelligence. Not a good idea to get on his bad side." She paused. "Never, ever trust him."

"How do you know so much about him?"

She glanced at Wedge. "You would, too, if you kept in touch with everyone in Booster's old empire. They all know the name. Intelligence people – no matter what side they're on – have the potential to be bad for business." She glanced back toward the door, and then returned her attention to the pilots. "He's the one who organized the resistance that held off the Empire at Contruum. Then he joined the Alliance, got into Intelligence, and rose pretty quickly through the ranks. He doesn't look like much, but he's a force to be reckoned with."


	10. An Elite Squadron

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 9: An Elite Squadron

---------------

Wedge knocked on Jesina's door later that same day. "You said you needed to talk to me?"

She nodded and motioned him inside, and then closed and locked the door behind him.

Her action didn't go unnoticed by Wedge, who held up a hand to prevent her from speaking just yet. "Wait a second. There are enough people in the Alliance who dislike me already, and a few who actually hate me. So, please, think twice before you drag me into anything."

"I'm not – why do people hate you?" she asked, interrupting herself.

He shook his head. "Long story. I'm being serious, though."

"I'm not dragging you into anything. I want to talk to you about Tycho."

"Tycho?"

"My friend who just defected."

"Why does he concern me?"

"He doesn't just yet, but he might, when they finally clear him." She told him about the delay.

He shook his head. "Next time, shoot one of the Imps – or more than one, for that matter. Leave them with no doubt."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You were being serious a minute ago. Can't you stay that way for a little longer?"

"Janson's rubbing off on me." When she hit him for that remark, he held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "All right. I'll behave. Tell me how Tycho concerns me."

"He's a pilot. He flew TIEs – in battle – for more than a year. And he's very good."

"To last even a year, he'd have to halfway decent." Wedge paused and studied her expression. "From the look on your face, I get the feeling he wasn't flying against smugglers and pirates."

Jesina shook her head. "No. He's flown against the Alliance."

Wedge hesitated. It wasn't good, but it wasn't terrible, either. "That's not exactly uncharted territory, Jes."

"Give me another minute or two and you'll understand. He flew at Kien'tol." Kien'tol was a largely uninhabited planet on the outskirts of the Expansion Region. The planet's smallest moon had been the site of a minor skirmish about a year before.

She had hoped Wedge would recognize the name, but he didn't seem to. "When?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "There's only been one battle at Kien'tol – only one that mattered, anyway. A patrol from a Vic was ambushed by a rebel squadron and completely destroyed, but the ambushers were chased off by the Vic's second squadron."

Wedge frowned. He'd heard this story before. Then he swore. "Janson."

Jesina nodded. "The ambushing squadron was the Tierfon Yellow Aces."

"If Wes finds out, one of the two of them is liable to end up dead. And – no offense – but my credits are on Janson to come out of it."

"Yeah, mine too. Oh, don't get me wrong; Tycho's no slouch. He proved that on Nar Shaddaa."

"You took an ex-Imperial officer to the Smuggler's Moon?" Wedge interrupted, incredulous. "Are you crazy?"

"No. It was a safe place to meet. Besides, give me some credit. He blended right in after I was through with him." A wicked grin appeared on her face, but vanished just as quickly. "I don't know what to do about this."

"Keep them apart," Wedge said. "I don't see that we have much choice."

"I don't see how we can manage that," she countered. "Think about it. You, Skywalker, Janson and Hobbie are all here to form a new squadron under Narra. It would make sense for Tycho to be assigned to Narra, too. He's good enough – I can guarantee it even without seeing him in the sims. And he's here."

"So we tell Narra the situation."

She shook her head. "I don't think that'll do much good. I don't have much to go on, but Narra strikes me as the type to tell them to get over it or he'll bind them together for a week and see who comes out the other side."

"I've only spoken to him for a few minutes, but I think you might be right." He paused. "So what do we do?"

"Tell them?" she suggested.

"Not Wes." Wedge shook his head vehemently. "That could only end one way."

That was true. She could just envision Janson marching down to the cellblock, blaster drawn. "Then I'll tell Tycho, and tell him not to say ANYTHING about it to anyone. That's the only thing I can think of." Something told her that it still wouldn't be enough.

"We should probably still tell Narra – at least, we should tell him if Tycho does get assigned to us. So he'll know in case something does happen."

Just then Jesina's comlink beeped. "Dreis."

"Captain, Lieutenant Celchu has been cleared."

"Thank you. Dreis out."

Just as she pocketed her comlink, Wedge's sounded, and he rolled his eyes. "Antilles."

"Lieutenant, Commander Narra requests that you meet him in the simulator room at 1700 hours."

Wedge glanced at his chrono. Less than twenty minutes. "Understood. Out."

"I'm going to go talk to Tycho. I'd bet twenty credits that Narra's going to sim Tycho against the rest of you."

Wedge shook his head. "No bet. I learned something from Booster, and that's never to bet against you." He paused. "You going to watch?"

"If Narra'll let me." She looked thoughtful. "Tell the others not to take it easy on Tycho. He's good. I want them to see it."

"And you want him to see that Rebel pilots aren't easy, either?" Wedge asked, his easy grin returning to his face.

She nodded, smirking, and slipped out the door.

---------------

Wedge was the first to reach the sim room, which was good because it gave him a chance to talk to Narra alone. The man was silent throughout the conversation, doing little more than nodding and frowning. When Wedge had finished speaking, he thanked him for telling him and then said, "You're right. I have no intention of trying to separate the two. If Celchu's as good as Dreis believes, I want him in this squadron. And they'll manage if it kills them." _It might_, Wedge thought to himself.

The conversation had ended then because Janson and Hobbie had arrived, with Luke right behind them. Narra glanced at his chrono. "Good. Early. I like that. Now, I want to properly introduce myself. I am, as you presumably know by now, Commander Bennington Narra. I knew Garven Dreis very well, and for those of you who flew under him, you'll learn that our attitudes toward command are very similar, though I take less flak from my pilots." He offered a small grin, but sobered quickly.

"You know by this point that we're forming a brand new squadron. And while you are all no doubt aware that you are some of the best pilots in the Alliance, you may not be aware that that is why you are here. The Alliance is seeking to form an elite squadron of fighter pilots that can also act as commandos, should the situation require it."

The four of them glanced at each other. He was right, they knew they were good. But – with the possible exception of Janson – they didn't think of themselves as the best.

"I've tapped several other Alliance pilots for this squadron, and I'll discuss my plans in further detail once they arrive, which should be over the next few days." He glanced at his datapad, ensuring that he hadn't forgotten anything. He hadn't.

"I do have one order of business right now. I've been asked to test a pilot who is new to the Alliance. Lieutenant Celchu flew TIEs for the Empire for about a year, and has just been cleared following his defection."

Wes opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by a deadly look from their new CO. "I'm having all four of you operate as TIE pilots to fly against him. I want to see EXACTLY what he can do. And I want to see what you can do. He's not going to be the only one I'm watching. Questions?"

Hobbie raised a hand. "Sir, did you say Lieutenant Celchu?"

"Yes, I did. Why?"

"Lieutenant _Tycho_ Celchu, sir?"

Wedge nodded this time. "That's him." That earned him a glare from Janson that said clearly, _you knew about this?_ Wedge inwardly cringed. _Oh, Janson I can only imagine what you'd do if you ever learned exactly how much I know_, Wedge thought. "You know him?"

"He was at Prefsbelt when Biggs and I were there." He looked at Narra. "He's good, sir. He was at the top of our class. And I'd bet my life we can trust him." He cast a sideways glance at Janson, guessing what the other man must be thinking. "He was from Alderaan. Had a fiancé and his whole family at home."

"Have you been in communication with him, Lieutenant, since you defected?" Narra asked, eyes slightly narrowed.

Hobbie grimaced, knowing how his words could potentially be perceived. "No, sir. Like I said, I knew him at Prefsbelt. We were friends."


	11. Formerly of the Imperial TIE Fighter Cor...

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 10: Formerly of the Imperial TIE Fighter Corps

---------------

"You all right?" Jesina asked Tycho.

He leaned against the wall. "You just told me that I'm liable to end up flying with someone I flew against, whose squadron I had kills on. Do you really think I'm all right?"

"No, but…" she trailed off as his comlink beeped at him.

"Celchu."

"Lieutenant, report to the simulator room at 1730." Tycho had been tentatively accepted by the Alliance, after undergoing a thorough questioning by General Cracken. He was keeping his Imperial rank and Narra had been charged with running him on the simulators. He was also going to continue to use his black flight suit. They'd burned his Imperial dress uniform back on Thyferra, but he'd kept the flight suit in case he needed it.

"Understood. Celchu out." He dropped the comlink back into his pocket and then turned sheepishly to Jesina. "Where's the simulator room?"

She laughed at the look on his face. "Come on. I'll show you. Wedge and the others are supposed to be there," she glanced at her chrono, "now. Narra probably wanted to warn them that they're about to have an Imp in their midst."

"Imp?" he repeated, eyebrow raised.

She grinned, glad he'd relaxed a little despite what he was potentially heading for. "Get used to it. Imps, eyeballs, squints – rebel lingo."

Tycho's good mood disappeared as they approached the sim room. "I've never been so nervous in my life," he murmured.

Jesina stopped and faced him. "Tycho, it's going to be fine. Wedge knows everything, and he's fine with it – he even knows about Kien'tol." She started walking again. "Skywalker's too new to the game to have developed any real hatred of Imperials. Janson's the only real potential problem, and I think Wedge and Skywalker can keep him in line – even without help from Narra – as long as no one tells him about Kien'tol. And Hobbie used to be an Imp, so—"

"Hobbie?" he interrupted. "Klivian? Derek Klivian?" His voice betrayed relief and…excitement?

She nodded. "You know him?"

"We trained together. I thought he was dead. They told us the _Rand Ecliptic_ had been destroyed."

Jesina shook her head. "Imperial misinformation. That's their greatest strength, you know. It wasn't destroyed. They defected – all of them, except for one or two."

"I don't believe it."

"Believe it."

He looked thoughtful. "Did you ever meet a man named Biggs Darklighter? He was assigned to the _Ecliptic_. He and Hobbie and I got to be friends at the Academy."

"Yes." She bit her lip. "He flew with Red Group at Yavin. I'm sorry. I wish I'd known you knew him. I'd have told you sooner."

He glanced away, but then looked back to her. "It's not your fault."

The rest of the walk was in silence. Tycho thought about the last time he'd seen Klivian and Darklighter, and about when his CO had told those who'd been at the Academy with them that the _Ecliptic_ had fallen to a Rebel attack. They'd done a great job of stirring up anger at the Alliance among the pilots – most of whom, before hand, hadn't really had anything against the rebels.

Most of the people he'd served with under the Empire hadn't hated the Rebels. They hadn't joined the Empire to fight Rebels. A lot of them had come from tough lives and were just looking to get out, to make something of themselves. None of them wanted power, and they only fought the Rebellion because it was their job – and because the Alliance pilots came after them.

Their instructors at the Academy knew that, and their COs did, too. Some left them to think whatever they wanted, but most did their best to create animosity toward the Rebels. And they usually succeeded.

Jesina tapping him on the shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. "We're here. You ready?"

"Saying no wouldn't get me out of it, would it?"

"Not in the least." She opened the door, pasted an incredibly false but cheerful smile on her face, and walked inside, dragging him along with her. The other pilots were already assembled. "Commander Narra," she said as she approached them, "This is Lieutenant Tycho Celchu, formerly of the Imperial TIE Fighter Corps." Tycho gave him a perfect salute.

Narra looked the newcomer over for a moment. His stature absolutely screamed Imperial, though that could just as easily be attributed to his upbringing – an Alderaanian noble, Cracken had said. He was very nervous, although he had good reason, if what Antilles had told him was true. Finally, after deciding he'd made the man sweat enough, he returned the salute and held out his hand. "Good to meet you, Celchu. Glad you finally saw sense."

He turned to the other men. "Celchu, Lieutenants Antilles, Skywalker, Janson, and Klivian."

Tycho glanced at each man in turn, and held out his hand. Antilles – this was Jesina's friend, the one she'd said was okay – shook his hand, as did Skywalker – the one who hadn't been in it long enough to hate Imperials. Janson did as well, but nearly broke his hand in the process. Tycho didn't mistake the message disguised in the handshake. And Klivian. He turned to his friend last, who pulled him into a hug. "I knew you'd wake up eventually." Jesina, from her position near the doorway, which she'd retreated to after her introduction, hid a grin.

Tycho offered him a sad smile as they separated. "Too bad it took such a tragedy."

"Don't blame yourself," Hobbie offered, knowing there was nothing he could say that would really make a difference.

Narra had stood back during their little reunion but cleared his throat now. "Celchu, have you had any experience in x-wings?"

"Sims only," he said, reluctant to go into any further detail, seeing as how he'd flown x-wing sims to give his squadron mates practice in shooting down the enemy fighters.

"You think you remember everything?"

"It's been a while," he admitted.

"All right. I'm going to put you in an x-wing. They'll be flying against you in TIEs." He turned to Hobbie. "Klivian, get him set up. Make sure he knows the controls. Then get yourself set up. Antilles, Skywalker, get into the sims. Janson, I'd like a word with you." He motioned the Tanaabian toward the door, away from the others.

Janson stood ill at ease in front of his new commanding officer. "Lieutenant, I've heard quite a bit about you. A lot of it good. Some of it not so much. I saw the glares you fixed Antilles and Klivian with, and I saw your stunt with Celchu just now. I want to make one thing clear from the get-go. Can it. If I like Celchu for this squadron – and I expect I will – he stays. And you stay. And you get over it. Do I make myself clear?"

It was a moment before Janson found his voice. Oh, he'd been dressed down by COs before, but not like this. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, I suggest you get whatever's going on with you out of your system by the end of this simulation. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

---------------

Tycho popped the door of the simulator and climbed out. He saw Skywalker and Antilles doing the same. "Nice flying," Skywalker congratulated him, clapping him on the back.

"You still vaped me."

"He's a Jedi," Wedge interrupted. "He's supposed to."

"You did well," Narra said. "Very well, for your first real time out."

"Yeah, you got both of us," Hobbie said, from where he stood next to a very sullen Janson.

"I have to admit," Tycho said, "You were better than I expected. I mean, I've flown against Alliance squadrons and I've seen how good they can be, but the instructors at the Academy did as much as they could to convince us that no one can match Imperial pilots."

"That's to their detriment," Narra said. "That's part of why so many Imperial pilots don't make it past their first few battles – they're so sure that no one can beat them, that no one's that good, that they get cocky and get themselves killed."

Jesina approached and nodded. "You've seen that firsthand, I'm sure."

"Yes, I have. I noticed that the few times we came up against Rebel squadrons. They tended to be more cautious, more defensive than our people – than the Imps," it felt so strange to use that word, "did – and more of the Rebels usually survived."

Narra nodded, pleased with Celchu's observations. "All right. I'm not through with you, but if you keep this up, Celchu, I think you'll do well in this squadron." He glanced at Janson to see his reaction. The pilot scowled but said nothing. "Get some rest, all of you, and report back here at 0700 tomorrow morning. By then some of our other pilots should have arrived."


	12. Be Careful

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 11: Be Careful

---------------

Two days later, at breakfast with a handful the pilots in the new squadron – Hobbie, Wedge, Janson, and a couple of others whose names he hadn't gotten straight yet – something happened that made Tycho rank joining the Alliance just above joining the Empire as one of the worst mistakes he'd ever made.

"Who were you stationed with?" Hobbie asked him around a mouthful of some unidentifiable substance.

Tycho hesitated, think back to his conversation with Jesina. "I don't want to talk about it." He glanced quickly at Janson and turned back to his food.

Not soon enough, though. Janson noticed. "No, who were you stationed with, Celchu?"

Tycho's eyes narrowed. Janson was baiting him and he knew it. "I _said_ I don't want to talk about it."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Janson said off-handedly. Then he asked, "Why don't you want to talk about it?"

"Lay off, Janson," Wedge said warningly.

"No. He's hiding something and I want to know what it is."

"Janson, it's his business," Hobbie defended his friend. "If I'd seen any fighting before Biggs and I came over, I wouldn't want to talk about it either." Tycho stood to leave as he finished his sentence.

Janson grabbed his arm. "You know what? I don't think it is just his business. How about it, Celchu? What are you hiding?" He was centimeters from Tycho's face.

Tycho shoved him back. Despite what Jesina had said, he'd had enough of Wes Janson. "I was with the _Inhibitor_ at Kien'tol." He managed – a miracle, no doubt – to keep his voice controlled, though his body was shaking with pent-up anger. "I was leader for two flight of the second squadron. We were the first flight in against your squadron. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Now he was shouting.

Hobbie and Wedge, who'd gotten to their feet the moment the confrontation became physical, froze where they stood – Hobbie because he hadn't known and Wedge because he hadn't expected it to come out. Not like this, anyway.

Janson wasn't frozen though. And, luckily, neither was Tycho, who just barely blocked the fist heading for his face. "Don't," he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge, pushing Janson away once more and leaving the mess hall.

---------------

"Captain Dreis, what would you say to a position within Alliance Intelligence?" General Cracken asked her.

Jesina regarded him coolly. She'd meant everything she'd told Wedge, Hobbie, Janson, and Skywalker about him. She didn't trust him in the least, but she didn't want to get on his bad side either. "I'd ask why."

He studied the datapad he was holding for a moment. It was an empty gesture, as he already knew everything the record contained and more besides. "Born on Alderaan, but left for Corellia at fifteen. Highly respected within Booster Terrik's…organization…by the age of eighteen. Running supplies for the Alliance by nineteen, and left Terrik entirely at age twenty-one. You have combat qualifications on a number of hand weapons, x-wings, y-wings, and Z-95 headhunters, and have logged a significant number of hours piloting TIE-fighters, Lambda-class shuttles, and a combat-ready YT-2400 freighter. Do you still wonder why you're of interest to Intelligence?"

"Yes."

"Your contacts would prove invaluable, and your skills would be a great asset."

"Antilles has the same skills, and just as many contacts." Not that she could see Wedge as a spy.

Apparently, neither could Cracken. "Antilles is best left where he is. He is more…useful there."

She frowned, not because of what he'd said about Wedge, but because of the whole proposition. She might not be able to see Wedge as a spy, but she wasn't certain she could see herself that way either. "I'll think about it."

"Tell no one," Cracken told her sternly.

"Don't worry about me. I can keep a secret. But then, you wouldn't be asking me to do Intel work if you didn't already know that." She left then, unnerved at having been in the presence of a man who knew more about her than she felt she did about herself. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable situation to be in.

When she reached her quarters, Tycho was standing outside. His face was flushed and he was scowling at the wall. "Tycho?"

He looked up at her, smiled briefly, but then scowled again a moment later, just as she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Janson coming their way. "I'm not through with you, Celchu."

Jesina keyed in her room's access code and said softly, "Go in." Tycho shot one last look at Janson before doing as she said and closing the door behind him.

"What's the problem, Janson?"

"I'm going to break your boyfriend in half."

"First off, he's not my boyfriend, though he is someone I'm _very_ protective of. Second, Wedge and I both figured that if you two were ever to go ten rounds, you'd win. But right now, I change my bet. As angry as you are, you haven't got anything on him."

"The hell I don't."

"Your quarters. Now." She followed him down the corridor and around a corner until he stopped at a door. "Inside."

Once the door was locked, she turned to face him, giving him a hard shove onto the bed. "What's your problem?"

"You expect me to fly with someone who tried to kill me?"

She wondered briefly how he'd found out. Knowing Janson, he'd probably pushed Tycho until he lost it. But right now, how he'd found out didn't matter. What mattered was how she – and Wedge, who was in this too, after all – were going to keep them from killing each other. "You were on opposite sides, Janson. He flew against your squadron. What do you want from him? He was doing his job; you were doing yours. He's since realized that he was on the wrong side. But don't hold against him what he did then. He never believed in the Empire. He's always wanted to change it, but he didn't think fighting to bring it down militarily was the right way. Alderaan made him realize that it was the only way."

"He flew against me."

"He flew against your squadron."

"No. He flew. Against. Me."

"What?"

"He led the first flight into the battle. I remember which he was. He killed my wingman, and flew against me."

Jesina let out a low whistle. This was worse than they'd thought. "Wes, he was doing his job. You can't hold that against him – you can't hold it against any Imperial, once they've defected. Or else we'll end up with fewer and fewer people on our side and more staying with the Empire not because they believe in it but because they've got nowhere else to go. Tycho almost didn't come with me, because Eskrit gave him such a hard time."

"You shouldn't have pushed him," Janson remarked, and Jesina's eyes narrowed to slits. She'd had enough.

"You listen to me right now, Janson. You leave him alone. You obey orders, you fly with him, and you get over it. Wedge knows about this, Narra knows about this, and I'm willing to bet that your whole damn squadron will soon enough. So watch yourself. Because if you start something that _he_ can't finish, I'll finish it." She and Janson were hardly the best of friends, but he knew her well enough to be able to tell when she meant business. "And," she added, "you can rest assured that I'll be having a nice long talk with Narra about this." She smiled sweetly and left before she hit him.

---------------

By 1700, all the new pilots had arrived and Narra was satisfied enough with their performance to actually call them a squadron. "All right, here's the roster. I'm one. Senesca is two. Antilles and Klivian are three and four. Skywalker and Moor are five and six. Seven is Janson, and eight is Celchu." He looked over at Tycho, who looked sick, and Janson, who seemed almost to be shooting blaster bolts at Tycho with his eyes. Ralter is nine, Kesing is ten, Dodonna is eleven, and Rivian is twelve. I lead one flight, Skywalker leads two, and Ralter leads three. Any problems?" Without giving anyone a chance to say a word he went on, "Get over it."

He glanced back at his datapad. "We're being designated as Rogue Squadron which, given the makeup of this squadron, is, I think, a more than fitting name. I'm not going to run you on sims yet. First thing tomorrow, though, at 0600, I want you all here and ready to run. Plan on it all day, with only a break for lunch. So I suggest you get some rest tonight. Dismissed."

---------------

Jesina looked up as Tycho appeared in her doorway. He frowned. "You're leaving?" he asked, waving a hand at the clothes strewn over her cot and the suitcase on the floor.

"Early tomorrow morning. I might still be here when you get up, but I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Nothing special. Just a supply run. Or something like that." The truth was, Cracken had come to her with a little incentive. An x-wing squadron had just been wiped out. Intelligence had set them up to ambush a patrol squad from an _Imperial_-class destroyer but severely underestimated the firepower the Imps had in-system. It had only taken his comment, "This is why we need more people. So men like Antilles, Celchu, and the others don't die because of our mistakes," to convince her. She knew she'd been played, but she also knew he was right. And he already had an assignment for her.

"When will I see you again?"

"I'm not sure. Whenever I end up in your part of the galaxy. You're still technically considered a training squadron, so you'll be here for a while. I don't know where you'll be after that, but enough people," she really meant Cracken, "owe me that I'll be able to pull a few strings to keep track of you." She hated not telling him what was going on, but didn't have much choice. She'd been a smuggler long enough to know that it was a lot like Intel work. The more you knew about everyone else, the better off you were, and the less everyone else knew about you, the better off you were.

Tycho sighed. "I was hoping I could spend more time with you." She'd been his closest friend since they were kids, and he hated that they saw each other so rarely.

"Who do you think you're kidding? You just don't want to face Janson without me to hide behind," she said teasingly.

"Y'know, about that – Hobbie's going to miss you more than I will, I bet, because now he's going to be the one in the middle."

Jesina shook her head. "He has my sympathy." But then she smiled. "You two will get along eventually. Whose idea do you think it was for you to fly together?"

Tycho's eyes widened. "You…" he sputtered.

"Well, Wedge, Narra and I had a nice little chat."

"Maybe it's a good thing you're leaving, before you get me into any more trouble," he muttered, not fully recovered.

"You get into enough trouble on your own. You don't need me."

"Exactly. So why do you enjoy helping me get into trouble so much?"

She shrugged. "Boredom?"

He rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at her. "You're a pain, you know that?"

"Of course. But seriously now. It'll get better – as long as you all live long enough to give it a chance. So be careful, okay?"

"I will. You too."

"Always."


	13. Trouble

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 12: Trouble

---------------

"Let's get something straight, Celchu," Janson said, approaching his wingman.

"What, Janson?" Tycho asked wearily. They'd spent more than fourteen hours in the sims today – for the third day in a row – and he was dead on his feet. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "What, Janson?" he asked again. "Because if I don't get to my quarters in the next few minutes I'm going to fall asleep right here." It normally wasn't the type of thing he'd say to a man he couldn't stand but right now he was too tired to care.

"I don't like you, and I don't trust you. I'll fly with you because Narra ordered it. But if you so much as look at me the wrong way, I have no problem with using this." He patted his blaster.

"You know something, Janson? I don't care. I don't expect you to like me. I don't expect you to talk to me any more than you have to. And I don't care." He turned to go. "I'm going now. I need sleep."

But he barely made it around the corner before he ran into Hobbie. Groaning, he sagged against the wall, holding his head in his hands.

Hobbie looked bewildered. "Are you alright?"

"No. I'm exhausted. Janson just accosted me to tell me he won't hesitate to shoot me if he feels the need, which was good, because flying with him wasn't bad enough. I haven't heard from Jes since she left and I know there's something she wasn't telling me."

"If it's any consolation, Narra just gave us tomorrow off. I was heading to your quarters to tell you."

"Huh?"

"Tomorrow. Off. I was coming to tell you."

"Where were you going?"

"To your quarters." Hobbie frowned at his friend. "Where were you going?"

"My quarters."

Hobbie stifled a laugh. "You are tired."

"Huh?"

"Your quarters are that way." Hobbie pointed back the way Tycho had come.

---------------

"Jesina Dreis." She held out her hand.

"Daxon Coe." The man looked her over. "Nice."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?" She wasn't sure if she liked this man.

"Blaster, vibroblade, holdout. Very nice."

She liked him. "You're good." She lowered herself into a chair.

"I try." He paused. "Ex-smuggler?"

"Impressive." She paused. This was an interesting conversation – and getting them exactly nowhere. "Feel like telling me why I'm here?"

"To find someone."

"Oh, that's helpful."

He smiled. "Isn't it, though? Welcome to Intelligence."

Jesina let her head hit the desk in front of her.

---------------

Alarm klaxons jerked Tycho to consciousness early the following morning. Grabbing his uniform pants off the back of the chair, he pulled them on as he slapped at the door switch. As the door slid open he saw people running back and forth past his door. Reaching out, he grabbed the arm of the first person who passed within reach. "What's going on?"

"Star Destroyer in system, sir," the man replied breathlessly. "_Victory_-class."

Tycho had a bad feeling. "_Which_ star destroyer?"

"Don't know, sir."

Just then the outdated intercom system crackled to life. "All pilots to their fighters. Repeat, all pilots to their fighters."

Tycho swore and let go of the man's arm. As he ran down the hall, Tycho ducked back into his room. He dressed quickly, grabbed the gear he needed, and headed to the hangar. After a couple of wrong turns, he made it there right behind Hobbie and Janson. Janson saw him and glared. Hobbie saw him and looked away.

Something about this really wasn't good. "Hobbie, what's wrong?"

"It's the _Inhibitor_," Hobbie told him quietly. "Narra just told us."

Tycho felt sick. "Are…are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Hobbie paused. "Are you okay?"

He shook himself. "Yeah, I'm all right." He started to climb up to the cockpit but almost fell off the ladder when he was startled by the sudden silence when the klaxons stopped.

"All fighters stand down. Repeat, all fighters stand down," the same voice from earlier could be heard overhead.

From his position a meter and a half off the floor, Tycho glanced around. There were two other squadrons there in addition to Rogue, which was still considered to be in training, and every one of those pilots looked just as confused as he felt. Slowly, he descended the ladder. Turning around at the bottom he found himself face to face with Commander Narra. "Lieutenant, please come with me."

---------------

"Lieutenant," the base commander, Colonel Enta Waro, a female Rodian, addressed Tycho, "Do you have any idea how your ship found us?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am. I would say that they might have had a tracer on Captain Dreis' ship – if they suspected her, they had plenty of opportunity on Thyferra and Nar Shaddaa, provided they could get onto the moon. But she's too good to let something like that get by her." He exhaled. "They aren't even supposed to be in this region. They're supposed to be patrolling the Expansion Region, heading toward Tynna and then Gyndine."

The Colonel folded her hands on the desk. She knew little about this man. But she, too, had known Garven Dreis and trusted his judgment and he'd often spoken highly of his niece. And she herself had a sense about this young man. "Lieutenant, sit down." After he was sitting she asked him, "Lieutenant, do you have anything with you that you had during your Imperial service?"

"My flight suit." He gestured to the black uniform. "Oh, and my blaster."

She turned to the commander. "Have his flight suit and blaster scanned for tracking devices."

She then turned her attention back to Tycho. "Lieutenant, there was no need to fight this time, because the _Inhibitor_ left the system. But what would you have done had you been forced to fly against your former friends?"

"I'd have done what I had to." Tycho looked down. "I wouldn't have enjoyed it. But I knew it could happen when I left."

She studied him for a moment. He struck her as a man who was honest to a fault. She'd spoke to him at length when he'd arrived. The pain in his eyes – fresh from Alderaan no doubt – was still there now. She didn't think that anyone could fake that. Of course, there was always the possibility that the Imperials could have convinced him that the Alliance had been responsible for Alderaan. But she doubted that.

Besides, Commander Narra had spoken to her about the man he'd assigned Celchu to fly with, Lieutenant Janson. He'd done it for two reasons. One was because Janson had taken an instant dislike to Celchu. The other was because he was so suspicious of Celchu that Narra couldn't believe Celchu could get anything by him. It had been nearly a week since his release and Janson had come up with nothing.

"Lieutenant, I'm going to take a chance and trust you. If I'm making a mistake in this, you'll pay dearly." She turned to Narra. "Commander, scan his flightsuit and blaster. And then prepare your people to become an active-duty squadron. I want to be ready to begin evacuation as soon as transports can arrive."

---------------

Tycho had barely made it back to his quarters – this time wearing New Republic orange, since Narra had taken his – before running into Janson. The Tanaabian pilot came out of nowhere, shoving him up against the wall, arm across Tycho's throat. "You sold us out."

"I—" Tycho gasped out. He wrenched his hands between Janson's arm and his throat. Pushing hard, he managed to get loose enough to breathe. And to speak. "I didn't."

"The hell you didn't." Janson shoved back hard, and Tycho had no doubt that he wasn't going to back off. With no other option, he hooked his foot around Janson's leg and jerked, hard, knocking the other man off balance. Together, they crashed to the floor.

This time, though, Tycho had the upper hand. He landed slightly on top of Janson, pinning him in a hold he'd been taught in hand-to-hand at the academy. Then he poised his fist to connect squarely with Janson's jaw. He might end up with a broken hand out of it, but it'd be worth it for the satisfaction.

Before he could actually hit the other man, though, he felt hands pulling him off of Janson. Then he heard Narra bellow, "Attention!"

He drew to his full height, saluting. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Janson scramble to his feet. "What the hell is going on here?" Narra snapped. Neither of them responded and he must have sensed he wouldn't get anything out of either of them right now. "Both of you are confined to quarters until further notice."


	14. A Great Career Path

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 13: A Great Career Path

---------------

They'd been en route to Lamaredd, yet another outer rim world, for a week. This one sat on the edge of Wild Space. It was undeveloped, home only to the non-human Menahuun race. Before leaving Exocron, Commander Narra had found a tracking device in Tycho's Imperial-issue blaster, and they'd then scanned everything else he owned but found nothing more. Tycho had been cleared of almost any suspicion. He'd also, by racking his memory and telling Colonel Waro the locations of the Empire's Outer Rim fleet – the last locations he'd known, at least – helped them figure out approximately how much time they had before they needed to evacuate. But Janson still wanted nothing to do with his wingman, and Tycho clearly felt the same.

"No, Antilles. He tried to kill me, or have you forgotten that?"

"I haven't forgotten. But honestly, can you blame him? The ship you were on – the ship he flew against once before – suddenly appeared in system, about a week after you were released. It looked bad for you."

"First of all, he didn't fly against the _Inhibitor_. He flew against her squadrons, which is a big difference, considering only seven pilots survived that battle. Second, I didn't do it, and I don't appreciate having someone try to kill me for something I didn't do!"

"Celchu, I know Janson. And he's too blasted hard-headed to apologize first."

"He tried to kill me!" Tycho repeated. If I hadn't tripped him, I wouldn't have been alive for Narra to break us up. I'm NOT apologizing to him!"

Wedge threw up his hands. "Fine. Let Narra figure out a better way to torture you!"

---------------

Jesina ran a hand through her dyed blond hair and blinked tired _blue_ eyes. She looked in the mirror and thought that even Tycho wouldn't recognize her. Smoothing the gray suit she was wearing, she looked at Daxon. "I guess I'm ready."

They were on Rothana, an industrialized planet in the Kuat Sector. Intelligence had gotten her hired as a management executive with Rothana Heavy Engineering, a subsidiary of Kuat Drive Yards. The company had been manufacturing military equipment since the clone wars. It currently served the Empire. And they'd gotten word that someone inside the facility wanted to defect – and bring industrial secrets with him. Her job was to find him. And she knew nothing about him.

She looked over the profile that Intelligence had worked out for her. "Ilina Zivos. Born on Alderaan. Educated at the University of Coruscant. Started out in an entry-level position with the Zaltin Company on Thyferra and worked my way up to the top within six years. Left shortly after because of the increasing factionalism between Zaltin and Xucphra."

"Am I all set?"

"Braid your hair. You'll look more stern, which is what you're going for."

"Thank you, darling." She offered him a small smile in the mirror as she separated her hair to braid it. Daxon was acting as her husband. He was supposed to take on the role of the oft-left alone husband looking for a little female companionship – from the oft-left alone wives of the male executives. It would be interesting, to say the least.

Her hair finished, she took the datapad he held out to her. "I'll see you later, Jast," she told him, using his code name. "Don't have too much fine while I'm gone," she said with a grin. Then she disappeared out the door. Time to begin her first day of work. In other words, time to make the boys on the factory floor sweat a little bit.

---------------

"All right, people, we need to come out of hyperspace for a course adjustment on the back side of the Kuat Sector, just outside of Rothana's space. Rothana's primary employer is Rothana Heavy Engineering, which is technically a part of the Kuat shipyards. So we're not exactly in friendly territory, here, okay?" Narra looked at each pilot in turn. "Everyone – and I mean everyone – is placed on alert as of," he glanced at his chrono, "seventeen hundred hours. You should all be ready to launch within two minutes of any order. Understood?"

After a chorus of "yeses" complement by a few nods, he shook his head. "Get out of here, you hotshots. Except for Celchu and Janson." He looked at them both. "You two, front and center."

He stood in front of them and tucked his datapad under one arm. "I let you both off easy for that little stunt back on Exocron. But I've had enough." He turned to Janson. "He didn't do anything wrong. Yes, he was an Imperial. But there are a great many people now serving the Alliance who served the Empire loyally – to a point. Including one Biggs Darklighter, who died in service to the Alliance, and one Derek Klivian, who is flying in this squadron. Get. Over. It. NOW. That's an order."

He then turned to Tycho. "You impressed me by not stooping to his level. Until that fight on Exocron, anyway. And now you're showing the same attitude problem he is. It's over. Now. Got it."

"Yes, sir," Tycho murmured.

Narra shot a look at Janson, who nodded. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"Good. Now I order you both to go to the lounge and buy each other a drink. Antilles and Klivian are waiting outside to escort you, because I'm not certain the two of you could get there without killing each other if you aren't chaperoned."

---------------

They could not have found a better position for what Jesina was on Rothana to do. As a member of management of an Imperial-leaning (more like Imperial-controlled) company, no one would grow suspicious of her nosing around trying to uncover Rebel spies within the organization – which was exactly what she planned to do.

She started down that path right away, by asking her assigned assistant – whose name she had no interest in learning – "Have you heard anything suggesting that any of our employees are, shall we say, Rebel sympathizers?"

He looked at her, startled. "Ma'am?"

"I'm just asking. I take that as a no?"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, no. I mean, I haven't heard anything like that, ma'am."

She hid a smile. "That's fine. I just…prefer to know what I'm getting into. That's all. If you hear anything, let me know?" It was a thinly veiled warning.

"Yes, ma'am. Is that all?"

"I'm going to want to review personnel records of all, well, of all employees, but I'd like to start with design technicians and engineering staff."

Again, his response was the questioning "ma'am."

"I've seen the efficiency reports, and I think there's marked room for improvement." She kept her eyes deliberately narrow. She was by no means here to make friends, and wasn't planning on making any effort to. "I plan to see to it that we achieve that improvement." She sat back down and looked at her datapad, but looked back up when she realized he was still standing there. "Is that all right with you?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am," he mumbled as he slipped out the door.

Alone at last, after hours of facility tours and introductions and briefings and Force only knew what else they'd seen fit to subject her to, she rested her elbow on the desk and put her chin on the palm of her hand. Her first Intelligence assignment and she had absolutely no direction whatsoever. If this was what intelligence work was all about, Cracken could have it. Smuggling was looking like a great career path.

---------------

Wedge and Hobbie exchanged uneasy glances as they watched Tycho and Janson at a nearby table. Narra had ordered them to essentially baby-sit the two feuding Rogues until they either could speak civilly to each other or had come to blows. Right now, it wasn't looking like either would happen anytime soon.

"Y'know, I tried to get Celchu to apologize to Janson, but he wouldn't. So I told him that it was fine with me and he could just wait and see what Narra came up with to torture them with. I didn't figure that I'd end up being one of the instruments of torture."

Hobbie sipped the glass of water. It was past 1700 hours and he couldn't bring himself to drink the synthehol swill the bar carried in place of actual alcohol, so he'd chosen water. Then he shook his head. "This is why getting involved is a bad idea."

"And you've so carefully stayed out of this," Wedge retorted.

"I've tried. It's not my fault. Janson's one of my best friends, and I'm the only one Tycho knows here. I kind of fell into the middle by default. You, on the other hand, don't need to be involved. So why in the name of the Sith _did_ you put yourself in the middle?"

"Because if they're still like this when Jes meets up with us again, I'm going to end up in the middle between Janson and Jes. And, given the choice, I'd rather be between Janson and Celchu any day."

"Hadn't thought of it like that," Hobbie admitted. Then he paused and gestured to the two men sitting across the table looking like pouting children. "What did we do to Narra to get him to dump this on us?" he muttered.

Wedge swallowed the last of the non-alcoholic imitation Corellian whiskey and made a face. "Wrong place at the wrong time?" he suggested.

"Only thing I can think of," Hobbie agreed. The he shook his head again. "I give up." He pushed back his chair and walked over to the two men, clearing his throat when neither of them looked up to him.

"Okay, listen to me for a second, huh? You two are either going to kill each other or start to like each other. Would you make up your mind? Because until you do, Wedge and I are going to stuck in the middle and we've really got our own problems to worry about. Not to mention, Jesina's going to shoot both of us when she gets back – although if that's before or after she shoots to two of you. Hopefully after, because we'll at least get to enjoy some peace before we die."

He paused, reveling in the fact that they both seemed to be paying him some marginal degree of attention. "And of course, all of this is depending on us not getting into a dogfight and getting ourselves killed before she gets back. Which is not at all a certainty, because the way the two of you are going, you're going to get each other killed and take the rest of us with you. So, would you give it up already?"

He turned and walked away, keenly aware that all of the people in the general vicinity were watching him and not giving a damn. Wedge blinked in surprise at the little speech the other man had just made. It was so out of character for him that it was funny. But it was true, especially the last part – which was, he figured, what had pushed his friend that far. And Wedge knew that that was what had Narra so concerned.

If they didn't get over this nonsense, they would get themselves killed if a real fight came their way. And they were hurting the squadron's cohesion – and driving them to distraction. If something wasn't done, they were going to be in serious trouble.


	15. Too Late for That

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 14: Too Late for That

---------------

Jesina was standing by the window when she heard the sirens from the nearby base. Frowning, she spun on her heel and headed for the door. "What is that?" she asked her assistant.

The man scowled at her. "It means there are rebels in the system. The base will be sending up fighters to chase them off. There aren't any capital ships in the area."

She regarded him suspiciously. "How do you know that much?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Because the base sends us security briefings periodically, ma'am," he replied, turning back to his work.

She frowned at him but nodded and went back into her office. Then she returned. "Are they going to attack us?"

"I couldn't say, ma'am," he said testily. "But unless they've brought a few capital ships to bear on us, the base's defenses should be more than sufficient."

Jesina intensified the air of nervousness she'd put on. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She returned to her office – to stay, this time – and sat down. She'd successfully convinced her assistant that she was some sniveling suit without a brain of her own – and paranoid, to boot. That would make it just that much easier to snoop around without raising any real suspicion. She knew she was running the risk of alienating people who might otherwise be of some help to her, but she also knew that people who thought they were your friends tended to pay a little too much attention to what you did.

She heard the intercom buzz. "Yes."

"Ma'am, your husband is here."

_Oh no_, she thought. _Something's wrong. _"Send him in."

Daxon walked in, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot until she said, "It's clean. I scan it myself every morning when I get here, and again if I leave for more than a minute or two. We're okay."

"Your boys are up there."

"What?"

"The reason for the sirens? It's the transport that evacuated Exocron."

"Evacuated? Why?"

"Because your friend Celchu was being tracked – a tracer in his blaster. The _Inhibitor_ showed up but took off because they didn't want to make a move without support, and Alliance personnel were closer than any Imperial backup for them. They evacuated before the Imps came back. They're heading for Lamaredd."

"Why are they coming here?" Jesina muttered, burying her face in her hands. "Are they trying to make things difficult for us?"

"Probably. They're not really big on making things easy."

"Who? The Imperials or Intel?"

"Either."

---------------

"Planetary Defense fighters from Rothana will intercept us in six minutes. Our job is to keep this ship intact until we achieve a new course setting and are outside the planet's gravity well. Unfortunately, we need to cut a direct course across Rothana's gravity shadow to get to where we're headed."

"Why can't we backtrack?" Alak Kesing, Rogue Ten asked.

"We don't have enough fuel. We don't have a choice in the matter. We also don't have enough fuel for a long fight."

Tycho groaned and Janson shot a glance at him. "Get used to it."

Tycho frowned in confusion. Ever since Hobbie's rant in the lounge, Janson had been acting differently toward him. It wasn't friendliness…more like resigned acceptance. He was glad, in a way. He was also paranoid, halfway expecting Janson to come up behind him and put a blaster bolt in his back. Or maybe he'd decided to wait and let some Imperial who got a lucky shot do his dirty work.

"This is the real thing, boys. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads and headed for their ships, Tycho casting glances at Wes as they ran. The other man never looked at him.

---------------

"Is there a way we can monitor what's happening up there?"

"Not really," Daxon replied. "I got a communication through channels, but I won't be getting another one. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless we can tap into the base's systems."

"Can you do that? I can't. I'm not a slicer by any means."

"I can. But I don't know if it's worth the risk. If I try it, there's a chance they'll detect it and trace it. They wouldn't be able to trace it directly to us, but it'll give them a reason to look."

"And that means trouble."

"Yeah." She sighed. "I guess we'll have to just sit tight and wait for another communiqué."

"Or wait for news from the base."

"No." She shook her head. "I can already tell you what the news from the base will be. It'll be skewed to favor them. Besides, they won't be able to tell us any specifics." Specifics were what she was concerned about. Specifically, Wedge, Tycho, Janson and Hobbie. "I hate being in the dark," she muttered.

"Get used to it. That's kind of how we do things in Intel."

---------------

Tycho throttled forward, banking hard to starboard to avoid a shower of laser fire that ended up hitting another TIE fighter that had been heading straight for him. He saw the fighter explode from the friendly fire.

"Keep that up," Tycho muttered. "It'll make it easier on us. That many fewer of you."

Wedge found himself only half concentrating on the battle. He didn't want to admit it, but he was worried that if Celchu got in trouble, Janson wouldn't bail him out. He hoped – and mostly believed – that Janson wasn't that callous – but he wasn't a hundred percent sure.

Apparently, Hobbie had noticed that his mind wasn't on the fight. "Break to port, Three," he shouted. "Where the Sith is your brain, Three?" he muttered.

"Sorry, four. Take a guess," he replied.

"Yeah, I know, but they're doing all right."

Wedge was glad they were on their private frequency. Narra would have a fit if he could hear this. As it was, he was probably in for it anyway. Narra must have noticed that he wasn't exactly focused.

He switched back over to the squadron frequency just in time to hear Dix Rivian, twelve, swear. "Shavit!"

Then Narra's voice came across. "Get back to the ship," he ordered, and Wedge experienced a sense of déjà vu as Dix apologized and banked away, smoke streaming from his astromech. "Cover him, Dodonna. Make sure he stays in one piece. We're almost there, people. Hold on another few minutes."

Wedge glanced out toward the planet. The path they'd taken brought them nearly into Rothana's atmosphere. He almost wished they were in the atmosphere. TIEs lost a lot of their maneuverability in atmosphere. They could use the help. Their squadron hadn't lost anyone but the other squad they were traveling with had taken heavy losses – they were down to seven.

---------------

Jesina was staring up at the darkening sky. Even though it was still somewhat light out, she could see flashes from the battle and hoped fervently that none of those flashes signaled the death of any of her friends. "Is it terrible of me to really hope only for the safety of the few that I know up there?"

They were out on the balcony of her office, at the very corner of the building. Daxon doubted anyone could hear them, but was glad she was speaking softly just the same. Daxon shook his head. "I think that's how most of us look at it. You know people are going to die, and you feel for them and their families, but you hope that it won't be you suffering. Don't blame yourself for that. Be glad you still feel anything at all."

"If I ever stopped feeling, I think I'd quit."

"That's what everyone says. But look at Cracken. You don't think he started out the way he is now, do you?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way," she admitted.

"Don't. You'll get cynical before your time," Daxon replied.

She looked up and saw another flash of light from the fight. "I think it's too late for that."

---------------

A warning alarm drew Tycho's attention to his scanner, and he swore. Someone had snuck up him and locked on. He went into a steep dive and broke the lock but couldn't shake his pursuer. "A little help, seven?"

No response. _Where the Sith is he?_ He brought his fighter around and started just as steep a climb, and then broke to port, but his pursuer stayed with him. Juking to starboard he broke another target lock and swore when the other pilot locked onto him again. For a planetary security pilot, this guy was good. "Blast, seven, where are you?"


	16. A Second Look

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 15: A Second Look

---------------

Janson glanced at the HUD, swearing under his breath. He'd picked up a tail and it looked like Celchu had one of his own. Diving steeply and breaking to starboard he shook the enemy fighter off for a second but the other pilot picked him up again almost instantly. He searched for the blip on the HUD that would indicate his wingman and finally found him just as he heard Celchu's frantic plea for assistance.

"You're on your own for now," he muttered, pulling his craft into a steep climb as laser fire played over his shields. If he tried to help his wingman now, he'd get killed trying. And that wouldn't do anyone any good.

Then inspiration struck. He banked to port, bringing his fighter around the core of the fighting and then straightened, putting himself directly on a path to intercept Celchu. Juking and jinking from side to side to keep his tail from locking on, he slowed slightly so he wouldn't actually collide with his wingman. But as soon as he was sure that Celchu would pass by before he crossed his path, he accelerated, going into a dive at the last minute. The TIE following him missed the maneuver and shot forward, slamming into the fighter that had been gunning for Celchu.

---------------

The dark-haired man watched his boss leave with her husband. Either she really was a flake who'd stumbled into this accidentally or she was a damn good actress. He was guessing it was the latter. A few minutes later he looked up as a blond woman approached. "Trae," she greeted him.

"Kala," he nodded at her and returned the greeting.

"Anything?" she asked in a low voice.

"She hasn't come up with a thing," he answered softly. "I wouldn't bet on it being long before she does, though."

"Good," she responded as she turned and disappeared into the dark hallway.

---------------

"Something wrong?" Daxon asked Jesina as he came into the living room of their apartment.

Jesina rested her chin in her hand but looked up to answer. "Nothing's wrong. I was just thinking about what you said about slicing into the base's systems. Could you slice into an Alliance database?"

He nodded. "Why, though?" She hadn't been in intelligence long enough to have developed that much distrust of their superiors. It would take another couple of weeks, he figured. Though she was pretty cynical.

"A personal thing, really."

Frowning, he said, "You need to give me more than that."

She told him about the situation with Tycho and Janson and said, "I get the feeling there's more to the whole thing, something I don't know about. I'd like to see the actual records of the battle at Kien'tol."

After a long moment, he nodded. "I can do it for you. How about tomorrow, while you're at work?" he suggested. "It'll give me something to do other than flirting with the trophy wives around here." He made a face and Jesina laughed.

"You mean that's not the type of woman you want to marry?"

He gave her a look. "Given the choice between you and the Chairman's wife, I'd choose you without a second thought."

"I'm flattered," she laughed. "I think."

He sat down on the sofa next to her and stretched his arms across the back. "Any luck?"

Jesina shook her head. "They have six hundred employees, if you count everyone from management to custodial staff. Six hundred thirteen, to be exact. None are non-human, and the vast majority are from Rothana, Kuat, etcetera.

"Anyone from planets that the Empire took by force, or that are otherwise opposed to it?"

She looked over the datapad. "Tatooine, which doesn't want any interplanetary governmental influence. Tanaab, Chandrila, a couple of Alderaanians, a few formerly of Kessel. Corellians are in abundance." She sighed. "I don't know where to start."

"Well, we got word that they plan on bringing design information with them. So it's probably someone in engineering or design. Run a cross-match diagnostic and see if there are any people in those departments from any of those planets."

Hitting a few keys, she ran the filter of the personnel files. "Ninety-six," she reported a moment later.

Daxon groaned. "I was hoping for about half that number."

"I was hoping for about twenty." She shook her head. "It's all us blasted Corellians."

"I thought you were from Alderaan."

"My mother was. My father was Corellian. I was born on Alderaan, but went to Corellia when I was fifteen. It's a long story."

He nodded. "I think we've all got one of those."

"Oh, I have several." She leaned back and found his arm was behind her.

"Sorry about that," he apologized and went to move.

"No, it doesn't bother me. If you're comfortable, it's fine."

He shrugged and settled back in. "Where are you going to go from here? Not that I expect I can be any assistance. I'm coming up empty too."

"I don't know. I've read the personnel files for everyone in engineering, design, and half of the floor operators. None of them has anything that even hints of rebel sympathies – or even dislike of the Empire. I've been asking around, but no one's reacted at all. Nobody's heard anything or, if they are, they're not talking. To me, at least. No one's running scared or even acting strange. Nobody gives me a second look."

---------------

"You could have told me what you were going to do," Tycho muttered as he walked alongside Janson across the hangar.

The Tanaabian pilot shot his wing mate a look. "There wasn't time," he replied, annoyed, before quickening his pace to catch up with Wedge and Luke.

Tycho watched him go, seeing Antilles slap him on the back and hearing Skywalker's, "Nice move out there." Shaking his head, he tried to identify the feeling that had crept over him and not liking when he realized it was one part jealousy and another part longing. Jealousy that he didn't have the kind of camaraderie with these men that Janson did, and longing for the friendships he'd had on the _Intimidator_. Shaking his head again, he tried to banish those thoughts and then hurried after his squadron mates.

---------------

Jesina and Daxon walked into the office the next morning, frowning when she saw that her assistant wasn't there. "I really need to learn his name," she muttered.

Daxon laughed at her. "That would probably help. Staff tend to appreciate when their bosses actually know who they are."

"I don't think even knowing his name would help me there," she replied. "He thinks I'm an idiot."

"With reason?" he asked.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing, dear," he said, trying and failing to conceal a grin.

"That's what I thought," she said, smirking.

"Have a good day, dear," he told her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him.

She tossed her head back, laughing – acting like that was perfectly in character for the persona she was creating – but was startled a moment later when he pressed his lips against hers. It wasn't just a light peck, either. She felt it down to her toes as she returned the kiss. "Have a good day," he said again as he left.

She stared after him, blinking a few times. Her assistant came in then, gave her a strange look, but sighed and headed for his desk.


	17. Secrets

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 16: Secrets

---------------

"You two impressed me out there," Narra said from where he sat behind his desk, hands folded on the surface. "I'll admit, I wouldn't mind seeing a little more communication between you two."

"Sorry sir," Tycho murmured and heard Janson echo his words.

Narra waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. Just work on it. I wasn't surprised. It's what I'd have expected from two men who'd known each other for less than a month – and better than I expected from the two of you."

Tycho remained silent, unsure of how to respond. Apparently, silence was the proper route, because Janson stood quietly as well.

Their CO went on. "I do hope you learned a lesson yesterday."

"Excuse me, sir?" Janson asked.

"Your behavior up to the battle had the rest of the squadron concerned. Antilles nearly got himself killed – if Klivian had had as little concentration as he did, they'd both be dead. And you two were the reason for that."

"I don't think," Janson began, but Narra cut him off.

"I've already spoken to Antilles. You two were where his mind was. Specifically you, Janson. He couldn't quite convince himself that you wouldn't be conveniently not around if Celchu got into trouble. And that seems to me to be almost what happened." He paused. "Was it?"

"Yes, sir," Janson admitted after a long moment, eyes fixed on his boots.

Narra's eyes hardened. "We'll discuss that later. Dismissed."

He watched them leave. He probably shouldn't have said even that much with Celchu standing right there. But he wanted them to settle this out. And this time, if they were going to do it with fists, he wasn't going to stop them. But something told him that wouldn't be their chosen course.

---------------

"Got your records. Wasn't easy, though," Daxon said as Jesina walked into the apartment.

She raised an eyebrow as she draped her jacket over the back of a chair. "You expected it to be?"

Daxon shrugged. "I've done it before. But you didn't tell me this stuff was classified."

She started. "That's because I didn't expect it to be," she said a moment later when she'd recovered. "_Why_ was it classified?"

"That's the interesting thing," he said. "I don't know. I looked it over – hope you don't mind," he paused and she shook her head absently, "but I only saw one thing out of the ordinary. Your friend Janson was disciplined – it was only because of intervention from the top that he wasn't kicked out of our starfighter corps."

Jesina's jaw hit the floor, snatching the datacard away from him with one hand and pulling her datapad out of her bag with the other. Janson was a joker, but she couldn't imagine him doing anything that would get him thrown out. "Did it say for what?"

"Nope. Just that disciplinary review was halted by orders from a superior."

"That's why it's classified. Someone doesn't want anyone to know who intervened." She rested her chin in her hands as the document came up. "But I can't think of anyone high up who would have known Janson at that point in time. I mean, a lot of people know who he is now. But I can't think of anyone then."

"Well, you have a squadron roster there. Any names look key? I don't know enough about starfighter corps to be familiar with the pilots, or who they might know."

She scanned it, occasionally murmuring to herself until she got to Porkins. "Jek Porkins." She sighed. "He died flying with my uncle at Yavin." She frowned. "Only a couple of these people other than Janson are still alive." Then her eyes widened. "Sithspit."

Daxon had been heading to the kitchenette for a drink but stopped and swung around. "What?"

"Did you happen to look at the holos of the squadron members?"

He frowned. "Since when do records include holos?"

"They used to, of people who died at the battle being reported on. But then they stopped doing it a little more than six months ago because it took up so much memory. It was kind of a memorial thing." She pushed the datapad over to him. "Look."

---------------

"What changed?"

Janson looked up and found Celchu staring at him from about a meter away, leaning against the wall. "What?"

"If I followed the conversation with Narra earlier, you were planning on leaving me on my own. What changed?"

Janson looked down again. For the first time since they'd been introduced, he truly felt ashamed of his behavior. And he figured that that was what the commander had been going for. "You trusted me to help you out. Even though you shouldn't have." Then he gathered his things together and headed back to his quarters.

Tycho watched him go, lost in thought. So lost in thought, in fact, that he jumped when Hobbie spoke to him. The Raltiirian stepped back, eyebrow raised. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking."

"About Wes?"

"Yeah."

"He challenge you to a duel?"

"No." Tycho paused and glanced at the doorway before looking back at his friend. "I actually think we're going to be okay."

Hobbie didn't hide his surprise. "Why?"

Tycho shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I just…I don't think Janson's problem was me." He was thinking about the other man's comment about trust. There was something there, something Janson hadn't said. If he could figure out what, maybe Janson would make a little more sense to him. He wouldn't bet on it, though.

---------------

Jesina rested her elbows on her knees. "You think Cracken will let me quit Intel?"

"Probably not."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

She exhaled slowly and ran a hand through her hair, frowning at the strands that fell into her eyes. "I hate being blonde." Then she thought about what she'd done to Tycho to bring him to Nar Shaddaa and decided it could be worse.

"What do I do?"

"Keep doing what you're doing until we find out what's going on. I don't think there's anything else we can do."

"We need to finish this. Quickly. If we don't, we might not finish it at all."

"Yeah, but how. We have no idea who the defector is." Then she raised her head. "I know what I'm going to do. I was getting sick of this Ilina person anyway. She's really not my style." She stood abruptly. "I have something to figure out. See if you can find out anything else about this…whatever." She tapped the screen with her fingertip and left the room.

He frowned after her, feeling uneasy about her words. Either this woman was going to do exceptionally well in intelligence or she wouldn't last a week. She was intelligent and gutsy, both of which were great characteristics in this line of work. But he got the sense that she didn't much like waiting around for things to happen. And that could get her killed – and him with her.


	18. Hints of Revelation

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 17: Hints of Revelation

---------------

Wes Janson stood in front of his CO, his body riddled with tension. The man had started yelling at him the moment he walked in and hadn't stopped except to take a breath since. He didn't dare move, speak, or even sigh. He'd had more than his share of dressing downs in his time, but nothing like that.

A lot of what Narra said just went in one ear and out the other. He'd heard most of it before. _Irresponsible conduct, reckless behavior, endangerment of fellow pilots…_ The words played over and over in his mind. _Rash and out of control, arrogant and immature._ Still, it reminded him of childish name calling and didn't have much of an effect on him.

But then his CO said something that snapped him out of his trance, and he focused on him again. "You could have gotten him killed. And Force knows how many others with him," Narra shouted at him. "One more stunt like that and you'll be lucky to ever get near a cockpit again! And that's if you're not recommend to be charged with dereliction of duty under fire. I don't think I have to tell you what that means." He paused, giving the words a chance to sink in. "Get it together, Janson. Or get out."

He'd heard those words before, too. But this time, he cared a little more.

When Narra turned away without another word, he took it as a dismissal and slipped out the door. Slunk out, more like.

He glanced at his chrono. Seventy-two minutes. Oh boy. That was probably an Alliance record. It was definitely a personal record.

---------------

Tycho stood on the observation deck and looked out, frowning when he saw another craft – a very large craft – in the distance. "What is that?"

Hobbie glanced in the direction he indicated. "Fuel ship. Don't worry about it. We're probably just lower on fuel than they expected us to be."

Just then, his comlink beeped. "Klivian," he answered.

"Lieutenant, please report to briefing room two at 1400 hours." Tycho got the same message, and glanced at his chrono.

"Five minutes," he muttered. "Don't give us any time to get there or anything."

Hobbie laughed at him. "Get used to it. They never give us any notice for anything. They never allocate ship and fighter strength where it's most needed. They have a habit of designating inexperienced units to operations that need experienced units. And you can always count on assignments being changed at the last minute." He frowned. "Sometimes it feels like they're trying to get us killed to get more support."

"Your optimism is underwhelming," Tycho replied dryly. "Let's go before Narra finds anything else to yell at me about."

"He isn't that bad," Hobbie retorted. "It could be worse."

"How?"

"You could be Wes. I heard he spent an hour in Narra's office this morning. His aide took an early lunch because he was yelling too loud for her to concentrate. No one's talked to or seen Wes since."

---------------

Jesina leaned against the front of her desk, datapad in hand, and called to her assistant. "Trae, could you come in here please?" She put on the sweet voice that made her sick every time she used it. He appeared in the doorway. "Close the door, dear," she said, smiling and making herself want to gag.

He rolled his eyes as he hit the button and turned back. And froze when he saw the blaster in her hand. "What can you tell me about a man named Cam Teien?" The sweet demeanor was gone. Her eyes were as cold as ice, and her hand never wavered.

He kept his face carefully blank. "I don't know who you're talking about, ma'am."

"Well, let me refresh my memory. Cam Teien died in a battle near one of the moons of Kien'tol. He fought for a Rebel squadron. And he bears a remarkable resemblance to you. Hair was a little longer and not as dark, and he had a scar running down the side of his face. Sort of like this." With a fingertip, she traced a line from he left eye almost to her mouth. "But all of that can be easily taken care of if someone should have a reason to try to conceal their identity."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"The hell you don't. Don't play dumb. It's about as becoming on you as it was on me. You know who I am. Of that I have no doubt. Now who are you? And, please, tell me the truth. This isn't set for stun."

---------------

"We've had a change of plans," Narra announced, and every pilot in the room groaned, Tycho included. Hobbie's pessimistic complaint session earlier had been right on.

"Apparently, there are some people in our general vicinity who might be in need of our assistance. We're going to be remaining on board the _Spirit_ and patrol the Cadavine and Arkanis Sectors until the higher-ups decide there's somewhere else that they'd rather we be."

"Who needs our help?" Wedge asked.

"I don't know. My orders said, and I quote, that we are to remain at our current location to provide potentially necessary assistance in an extraction effort of an individual or individuals known to be friendly to the Alliance." He paused. "Remember this when you reach command rank."

Everyone assembled laughed outright and he waited a moment, allowing them a quick break. Once most had quieted of their own accord, he cleared his throat and the stragglers fell silent. "A couple more minutes and I'll set you free. We are still on high alert, because we're in an unfriendly system. We are also going to resume regular patrol duties. Rosters will be posted outside my door. Dismissed."

---------------

"I underestimated you." Trae paused. "I take it this room is clean."

"To a degree. We are being monitored."

He nodded. "Of course. By Daxon, I imagine?"

She wasn't surprised. She'd made the first move and it was his turn to parry – and make his own. She studied him for a moment before responding. Just as she'd dropped her alternate persona, so, apparently, had he. Gone was the haughty Imperial aspirant. He clearly no longer thought of her as the dim-witted blonde she'd built Ilina up as – if he ever had thought that way at all. He was watching her with interest, his intelligent eyes taking in her every move. "Yes, he's listening."

"Good." He leaned against the bookcase, taking care to move slowly and keep his hands in the open. "I must admit, I'm surprised you found out who I was at all, let alone so quickly."

"Pure coincidence," she admitted after a moment. "I accessed the Kien'tol records for something entirely separate. Just dumb luck. Now, who are you?"

"I'm with Alliance Intelligence. My partner and I are the ones that got word to the Alliance about a defector here. We couldn't do anything to get her out ourselves – our positions here are too valuable. We filter a lot of information back to Intel – more than you'd think."

She shook her head. There was no real reason to believe him, but she did just the same. It was purely a gut reaction - but then, her instinct was part of why Cracken had hired her. Besides, this was exactly the type of thing she'd expected. "They couldn't at least tell Daxon and I that someone else was here?"

"If you'd been caught, you'd have been able to give us away. Besides, they wanted us to monitor your progress. Daxon's a seasoned agent, but you're new to the game, and you're the one doing most of the legwork."

"Who wanted? Cracken?"

"You're learning already."

She gave him a weak smile. "Well, since we know you now, will you help us?"


	19. Easy

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 18: Easy

---------------

Daxon glanced at Jesina, and then at the other two agents assigned to Rothana. Trying to make himself comfortable in the hard-backed chair he'd made the mistake of taking when Trae and his partner, Lanara Tierk, had arrived at the rented apartment he and Jesina were sharing, he asked, "I take it you know who the defector is?"

Lanara tossed her head, reminding Jesina of the character – she refused to think of the role she'd been playing as an identity – Ilina that Cracken had created for her. She almost told the other woman she could stop acting now, but remembered just in time that she was the one who'd been acting. "Of course we do. Who do you think communicated the information to General Cracken?"

Trae, his back to his partner, rolled his eyes and Jesina couldn't help but ask herself just what, exactly, this woman was doing with Intelligence. A subtle glance at Daxon told her that he was wondering the same thing. Rolling his eyes once more, Trae hit a couple of keys on his datapad. "I've just transmitted to you everything we know about her." He gave up on his chair – identical to Daxon's – and moved to the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him. "If you'll open it, we'll get started."

"Her name is Kalix Teshi. She works here with her husband. They came together from Imperial Center almost five years ago – which is where they lived all their lives prior. He's a die-hard Imperial. She, obviously, is not."

"We never would have found her," Daxon muttered, and Jesina nodded her agreement.

"What are their positions here?" she asked, carefully directing her question to Trae rather than Lanara.

"He's an engineer. She's a physicist by trade – specializes in astronavigation and gravitonics."

"Gravitonics?" Jesina asked.

"Melding technology and gravity," Trae explained.

"Do you know what information she plans on bringing over?" Daxon asked.

Trae opened his mouth but Lanara spoke first. "We can only surmise that it's in some way related to her research," she said in bored voice.

_Yes,_ Jesina thought to herself. _Because we couldn't have figured that much out without your invaluable assistance._ Aloud she asked, letting annoyance creep into her voice, "Do we know what, specifically, she's researching?"

"She's head of a gravitonics project right now," Trae answered quickly. He could see that Jesina's patience was wearing thin. Truth told, so was his, as he wondered for the thousandth time which of the many Gods in the galaxy he'd angered to get stuck with Lanara. "Something to do with vehicular manipulation of gravity, but that's all I know."

"All right." Jesina thought for a moment. "You said she and her husband work together here?" When he nodded, she went on to ask, "Is there any point during the day when we know for sure that they'll be apart? Any specific time, for example, when she's scheduled in the lab and he's supposed to be on the floor in engineering?"

"Not for certain," Trae answered.

"No matter," Lanara put in. "I can get close enough to her at some point during the day when she is alone and arrange a time for her to slip away and meet us somewhere."

"Then you can let me know," Trae pointed at her. "And I'll pass it on to you," he finished, turning to Jesina.

"That'll leave arranging transportation to me," Daxon said, standing up and stretching for a moment. "Once I know what time." He paused. "Speaking of, how are we going to get off this rock? We need an excuse to leave, and a way to do it."

"The excuse will be easy," Trae said. "We can fake a holo-call that you have a family emergency – initiate it here and reroute it trough various satellites so it looks like it's coming from off-planet, in case anyone takes an interest."

"You have the equipment here to do that?"

He nodded. "The same equipment we've used to communicate with Cracken. It won't take long, either. I set it up tomorrow morning and you can receive the call tomorrow, early afternoon. Then you let people know in advance that you'll be leaving the next day. It'll make it that much more believable if you give advance notice."

"And how do we actually leave?" Daxon asked, beginning to pace around the room behind her.

"We could always rent a vehicle," Jesina suggested. "We have the excuse. It won't be armed, though."

"And neither of you are supposed to be able to fly," Lanara pointed out. "Correct?" she asked snidely.

Jesina muttered a few choice words under her breath, annoyed that she'd caught her on something. She chewed her lip for a moment. "I know what we can do."

"Do tell," Lanara remarked, just a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Jesina willed herself to relax. Force, she couldn't stand this woman. An hour in her company – less than an hour, really – and she wanted to shoot herself. "I was about to," she hissed through gritted teeth. Daxon stopped his pacing for a moment, resting his hands on her shoulders. She leaned back slightly as he kneaded her tense shoulders.

"That project she's working on? Well, I've just taken an interest in it."

"It's top secret, even over your head," the most aggravating woman on Rothana protested.

"Well," Jesina began, putting on her best Ilina voice, "I don't particularly care. I want to know about it anyway. And I demand that she meet with me."

Daxon snickered and Trae laughed outright. Lanara just looked annoyed at all of them and Jesina thanked the Force for small favors. "Anyway," she said after a moment, bringing them back on track and looking at Trae, "arrange a meeting between us in my office in the morning before we leave. Make it early, so there won't be too many people here. But not so early that it'll raise suspicion." She glanced at Lanara. "You'll have to tell her sometime relatively early tomorrow to be ready. I'd like to be able to give her more time to prepare, but once we make contact with her we'll have to move quickly. The longer we wait after first contact, the higher our risk."

"Engineering comes in at 0700, and so do the researchers," Lanara supplied. "I'll talk to her then. And we can arrange the meeting for not long after that."

Jesina was shocked into momentary silence at the fact that Lanara had actually proven useful. After she'd recovered she said, "Make it 0730, and we should plan on leaving by 0900. We'll disguise her – I can bring in makeup, hair coloring and other supplies with me. She'll pretend to be our pilot when we head to the rental hangar." She sighed. "From there on, we pray."

---------------

Rumors were flying through the squadron at light speed about what Narra had said to Janson and what – if anything – was going to happen to him. Tycho had heard everything from "It was just a reprimand" or "He's getting demoted" to "He's getting kicked out of the squadron" and "He's being put up on charges." He didn't believe the more extreme suggestions, but wanted to talk to Narra about it. Which was why he now stood in front of his CO's assistant, waiting to be granted entrance.

The woman brought him out of his thoughts, saying "You can go in now, Lieutenant."

He nodded and walked by her desk, hesitating a moment before he opened the door and went in.

"What can I do for you, Celchu?" the commander asked before he'd even made it through the doorway.

"I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment about Lieutenant Janson, sir."

"I assure you, he's been duly reprimanded."

"I…Yes, I'd gathered that. It seems that everyone has some idea of their own about that."

"Oh really?" Narra raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

"Yes, sir." He paused. "I don't know what actually happened, and I'm not here to ask. But on the chance that any disciplinary action is being taken against him – that seems to be the more persistent rumor – I wanted to ask that nothing be done."

"And what makes you think you have any say in whatever action _might_ be taken, Lieutenant?"

"I don't, sir. Not really. I just think that there won't be a problem anymore. We spoke after the battle and he said something that I'd rather not repeat, but I think we've gained an understanding."

Narra folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I will say, I'm impressed with your selflessness, Lieutenant."

"It's not entirely selfless, sir. There are still people here who aren't particularly fond of me and Lieutenant Janson is well liked, although his recent actions have been somewhat unpopular. In all honesty, if he were to be needlessly disciplined, it would make things that much more difficult for me, both with him and with the rest of the squadron."

"Duly noted, Lieutenant. And, for the record, no action is being taken against Janson at this juncture. Dismissed."

He watched as Celchu saluted, turned on his heel, and left. He was an interesting character, that was certain. Noble to a fault – which could very likely get him in trouble here. Or at least induce one hell of a crisis of conscience. _A good pilot, though_, he thought to himself. _One less good one flying for the other side._


	20. The Easy Part

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 19: The Easy Part

---------------

Jesina leaned against her desk. She and Trae had come in early to get ready, under the pretense of getting things in order to make up for her extended absence. Now, though, they had nothing left to do but wait for Kalix to arrive.

She bit her lip thoughtfully, unsure of whether to ask what was on her mind. She desperately wanted to know what had nearly gotten Wes kicked out of the Alliance, and she was standing only a meter from a man who'd been there to witness it. _Ah, what the hell? It's worth a shot._ "Trae, could you tell me anything about what happened at Kien'tol? I know that it's classified, but it doesn't say why."

He shook his head slowly, looking a little sad. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry, but it's classified for a reason, though your Lieutenant Janson _is_ one of the few allowed to talk about it."

She started. "How did you—?"

He smiled. "I do my homework." Then he glanced at his chrono. "I'd better wait outside for her. She'll be here soon."

Jesina nodded but scowled at his back as he left. Force but she hated intelligence types.

---------------

Tycho was surprised to see Janson standing outside his door. Before he had a chance to say so much as a word, the other pilot spoke. "You had no business talking to Narra about me."

The Alderaanian sighed and shook his head. "First of all, yeah, I did. In case you've forgotten, I'm the one you damn near abandoned out there, Janson. And, in case you're interested, I didn't go to try to get you in trouble. Everyone seemed to think that you were in for it and I didn't think that was right. I figured that since I was the one who nearly got killed because of your stupid stunt, he might listen to me."

"I don't need _you_ to defend me, Celchu."

Tycho rolled his eyes. "No kidding. Consider it payback. You saved my life; I thought it was the least I could do."

"Look, Celchu, I don't like you. I'll fly with you, I'll fight with you, and I'll watch your back. And I'll expect the same from you. But I don't like you, and I'm not going to. So you may as well forget about it."

"Janson, I'm not asking you to like me. I'm not asking any of you to like me. Frankly, I don't care if any of you do or not." It wasn't entirely true – he was holding out a slim hope that he might eventually find friendship with at least one of these men. "That's not why I'm here," he went on. That part was true. He was here to avenge his family, and make sure no one else suffered the loss he had.

---------------

Jesina surveyed her handiwork. Kalix Teshi had come in with vibrant red hair and bright green eyes. Her hair was now an inconspicuous brown, tucked up under a cap, and her eyes were a matching dull color. Dressed in a plain gray jumpsuit, she was perhaps the most inconspicuous 'pilot' to ever set foot on Rothana. Jesina handed her a belt with a holster, and then a blaster to complete the image.

The young woman looked at her, uncertainty in her eyes. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

She nodded and sighed. Kalix was significantly younger than she'd expected – she was only in her early twenties. And she seemed at once naïve and jaded. It was a strange combination, one that Jesina had only rarely seen in her time. "Yes, it's necessary. At this point, with the war going the way it is, no pilot will fly unarmed. A simple blaster won't do much, but every pilot I know feels a little more secure having one within reach. You won't have to wear it once we get on board."

"All right." She hesitantly strapped it around her waist and took a few awkward steps, trying to adjust to the uneven weight. "It feels…strange."

"It will, for a while. Practice walking like this." She put on a stereotypical pilot's swagger and walked across the room.

Kalix laughed. "It seems so…arrogant."

"That's the idea. You walk like you're from Coruscant," she began, and Kalix cut her off.

"I am from Coruscant."

"I know. But Coruscant isn't known for its pilots. Bureaucrats, politicians, businessmen, yes. But pilots…." She shook her head. "I want you to walk like a Corellian."

Kalix frowned but nodded and made her way across the room. She stopped when she reached the other wall and turned. "How's that?"

"Um, well, you could pass for a Corellian who's been off Corellia for a few years, I suppose." She glanced at her chrono and shrugged. "We'll have to settle for that, because we've just run out of time." As if on cue, her comlink buzzed. "Sounds like our transportation's ready."

---------------

Glancing across the mostly empty hangar bay, she saw Daxon at the foot of the boarding ramp of a refitted yacht. "This way," she said, quickening her pace and heading in his direction. Kalix clutched her satchel tighter and followed.

They were ten meters from the ship when Jesina heard a shout from the entrance they'd just come in. Whirling around, she grabbed Kalix's hand in her left hand and pulled her forward, almost knocking her off her feet. "Get behind me!" she yelled, drawing her blaster with her right hand.

Running backwards, she fired a few shots in the general direction of the door and the planetary officials – and Rothana Engineering Security officers – who were heading toward them. Several fell to her lethal aim, and several more to blaster fire coming from behind them thanks to Daxon. "Keep going!" she yelled, nearly stepping on Kalix's feet as she ran backward.

As she continued firing, she realized that she and Daxon weren't the only ones fending off the security officials. Additional blaster fire was coming from a side door. A quick glance told her that Trae and Lanara had joined the fight. She wondered idly where they'd come from but didn't have time for any real thought. As more troopers – how in the galaxy were so many of them there? – came in and sought cover behind anything and everything they could find, she felt a blaster bolt whiz past her ear. She didn't have to turn to realize that Kalix had drawn the blaster that only half an hour earlier she hadn't wanted to touch.

"Run!" she yelled at Kalix. "Go! Don't look. Just run!"

Something made her look over toward Trae and Lanara just as Kalix took off toward Daxon, though she kept firing at the security officers. Her eyes widened as Lanara stopped shooting for just a moment – just long enough to shift her aim to Trae. Realization hit him a second too late and as he moved to dodge and raised his blaster to fire at her, her next shot caught him in the chest, sending him backward into the wall. It didn't take much though to realize that he wouldn't be getting up again.

She felt a sharp pang of loss at his death, though she hadn't known him long. But she didn't have time to grieve now. If she didn't pay attention, she'd be joining him.

From somewhere in the back she heard Kalix scream and offered up a silent prayer that it was at because of the shock of seeing Lanara turn on Trae and not because she herself had been hit. A moment later she heard a cry from Lanara as a blaster bolt hit her in the shoulder, spinning her around. She didn't even try to figure out who that shot had come from.

Jesina pulled the trigger of her blaster once more and, when it didn't fire, hurled the now-useless weapon in the direction of their attackers. Springing up from where she was crouching, she sprinted for the yacht and waved her arms. "Go!" she yelled for what felt like the hundredth time in the last five minutes.

The ramp rose under her feet as she ran up. But it wasn't fast enough. She cried out and stumbled as a blaster bolt grazed her thigh but, with Kalix's help, made it up and in without being hit again. "Help me to the cockpit," she said through gritted teeth.

Daxon saw them come into the cockpit and moved from the pilot's seat to the copilot's seat. "You all right?"

"I'll live," she muttered. "As long as we get out of here, say, ten minutes ago." She surveyed the controls, glad that Daxon had had the foresight to run start up. Looking straight ahead and up at the large transparisteel windows, she glanced back at her passengers. "Hang on."

Kalix's eyes widened. "You're not—" When Jesina gave no indication that she planned on answering, Kalix turned her attention to Daxon. "She's not—"

"Well, I don't know her that well, but, yeah, I think so. We don't have any other way out right now. They're not about to open the hangar for us. Strap in. And secure that bag."

The physicist shoved the case under her seat and sat down, falling as Jesina pulled down on the yoke. She turned white as she fastened the belt across her lap and chest. "Gods!"

"Yeah, that might be a good idea," Jesina said, teeth clenched as she throttled forward, accelerating faster than was probably safe. "Hang on." It took every bit of self-control she possessed – and quite a bit she hadn't known she possessed – to not duck as she guided the craft through the transparisteel panels, shattering them and sending shards everywhere. The second she knew she was clear of the building's frame, she brought the nose of the yacht up in a more abbreviated liftoff than she would have liked.

Once they were actually in flight and leveled out, she checked the monitors. Sure enough, fighters were already launching in pursuit. "That, my friends, was the easy part."


	21. The Hard Part

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 20: The Hard Part

---------------

Jesina swore as the yacht rocked under a barrage of laser fire. "I can't keep this up much longer!" She opened her comm channels, transmitting a distress call. "Shields?" she yelled over one of the handful of alarms that had gone off in the last three minutes.

Daxon glanced at the monitor just as they took another hit. "Down to…thirteen percent."

"Force!" Kalix exclaimed as yet another blast rocked the ship. Her knuckles were white from clutching the armrests. "We'll be killed."

"No…we…won't," Jesina muttered through gritted teeth. She banked sharply and went into a steep dive almost immediately, without warning to her passengers – neither of whom managed to stay in their seats as their belts snapped open. She just barely did, clinging to the console and locking her legs in place. "Not a single blasted weapon. Not even a turbolaser!" she exclaimed, grimacing at the pain in her leg. Anchoring herself with her feet had been successful, but the strain was aggravating her blaster wound.

"Unidentified yacht, are you in need of assistance?" a voice came over the comm.

She stared at the unit, eyes wide. She knew that voice. She knew it.

"In need of assistance?" Daxon muttered, pulling himself to his feet and helping Kalix up. "What gives you that idea?" He rolled his eyes and slapped at the comm controls. "Yes we are. You offering?"

"Come about to heading three-one-nine at full acceleration. We'll cover you."

"Those are x-wings," Kalix exclaimed as the oncoming fighters came within visual range.

That's who that was. Narra and the Rogues. She didn't use their designations, though. They were being pursued by Imperial-aligned forces and this wasn't a secure channel. "As ordered," she responded.

She did as he said, heading on a direct course away from the pursuing fighters and toward a _Victory_-class Star Destroyer that suddenly appeared on her scope. She watched as the x-wing fighters swept in behind her, forming a sort of barrier between the yacht and their enemies. "That's the _Spirit_," Narra's voice came back. "Head straight for it. They're expecting you."

---------------

Faced with Daxon's demand that she let him help her off the yacht once they'd docked with the _Spirit_, Jesina acquiesced. Her leg really was bothering her, after all. And when she tried to stand on her own in an attempt to get him to leave her be, her leg buckled on her. After that, he'd picked her up and carried her down the boarding ramp. Kalix practically glued herself to his side, unsure of what she was walking into.

Narra was standing at the foot of the boarding ramp, along with the rest of his pilots. Namely, Tycho. Her friend's eyes narrowed and he turned and left, mumbling something to his CO as he went.

Daxon set her down and she leaned against him heavily. She made the introductions and thanked the Rogue officer for his intervention. When the planetary defense pilots had seen the Rogues enter the scene, they'd backed off.

He shook his head. "No thanks necessary. You were the reason we hung around," he told her. "We were told that someone might be in need of our assistance."

"We were," she admitted ruefully. She paused a moment and then asked in a low voice, "Can you get in touch with General Cracken?"

"I'll do what I can, though I have no idea where he is." He looked Jesina over. The fact that she'd been carried from the ship had not gone unnoticed, and her obvious difficulty in standing was, well, obvious. "You're injured."

"You have a gift for understatement," Daxon muttered under his breath. Narra shot him a look and Jesina elbowed him.

"It's not bad."

"Still, you should go to the med center," Narra said, using a tone he normally reserved for command – and for Janson. "Antilles, show them how to get there."

"Yes, sir." Wedge would meet her eyes. She knew he wanted to know what was going on. But there wasn't much she could tell them. She needed time to think of something to tell them both. Something other than the truth.

---------------

"What's going on?" Tycho asked Jesina, arms folded across his chest.

She bent and then straightened her knee. They'd put a large bacta patch over the wound and it was already healing, but her leg kept tightening up. Then she looked up at him. "I told you I had a run to make. And then I stumbled onto Kalix and Daxon."

"Where's the _Nightwind_?" He knew she loved that ship and would never leave it behind of her own volition.

She sighed, knowing what he was thinking. "Docked on Saylog. I couldn't take her with me, not with your old friends looking for it." She paused "I heard what happened. I bet it didn't exactly endear you to them."

He shook his head. "No. It's been…interesting." He shrugged. "I think Janson and I have reached an understanding. I don't expect him to like me, and he doesn't try to kill me. Or something like that."

Just then Jesina's comlink beeped. "Dreis," she muttered, rolling her eyes at Tycho, who grinned at her, his frustration at not knowing what she was doing momentarily forgotten.

"Captain Dasra would like to speak with you, Mrs. Teshi, and Mr. Coe immediately, Captain Dreis. Please go to the bridge."

"On my way." She smiled apologetically at Tycho and left, hobbling slightly, to make her way to the bridge. She was the last to arrive, and the Captain motioned for the three of them to follow him into his office.

"As it were," he said once they were all seated and the door closed, "General Cracken should be here within the day. Apparently, he was expecting us to pick you up."

"He couldn't have told us that?" Jesina muttered, and Daxon shook his head.

"Of course not. It would have made things easier on us."

"Oh, of course."

---------------

Jesina and Daxon sat quietly, facing Cracken, Kalix in between them. The woman slid her bag across the table to the General. "As I promised Trae."

"Speaking of Trae, I trust his identity has not been compromised."

"If you mean who he really is, no. Daxon and I know, but I have no intention of telling anyone. Not that it matters. Because your agents are both dead."

Surprise flitted across the Intelligence man's face for an instant, but he covered it up just as quickly. "How?" was all he said.

"Lanara was a double agent. She must have sold us out, then they came to defend us and she turned on him. They're both dead," Jesina said again.

Cracken nodded, almost to himself, and Jesina shot Daxon a look bordering on disgust. "Now, what do you have for us?" the general asked.

"Their working on – I was working on – technology to create artificial gravity wells. Basically, developing technology to equip starships with the ability to pull other vessels out of hyperspace, and to keep them from going into hyperspace." She paused. "We call it an interdiction field. It's not yet in the final stage of development, but it will be soon. We know it works."

"And what, precisely, have you brought us?" Cracken asked.

"All my research. Unfortunately, it's not the only copy. It's on every independent terminal in the facility, and on the network. If I'd tried to erase it, I'd have drawn attention to myself. There was just no way."

"Quite unfortunate," was all the general said.

---------------

After four hours of the most frustrating debriefing she'd ever endured, Jesina was wide awake and in a mood to take some of her aggravation out on someone. She knew the perfect target. Without giving it a second thought, she pounded hard on Janson's door.

Wes answered it wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else. He yawned and ran a hand through his hair. "It's…" he glanced at his chrono. "0200 hours," he finished, blinking at the bright light. "What are you doing here?"

She pushed by him and into the room. "I've got a few questions for you. And I want answers." She crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the floor.

He closed the door and turned to face her, blinking again as he turned on the light. "Jes, I got to sleep two hours ago, after being up for nineteen hours. What do you want?" Normally he liked Jesina well enough – liked her more than he planned to admit to anyone – but he didn't like anyone at this hour, no matter who they were, or what they looked like.

"I learned a few things while I was gone. A few very interesting facts about Kien'tol. Like the fact that the records of the battle are classified. And that you came damn close to never flying for the Alliance again. I want to know why."

His annoyance was gone in an instant. His face paled visibly and he sank into a chair. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and buried his face in his hands. After a long moment he rubbed his hands over his face and then looked up at her, shaking his head.

"Why, Janson? Why did they nearly kick you out? And why didn't they?"

He leaned back in the chair and bit his lip. "I disobeyed an order and three people died because of it."


	22. Girlfriend

**Alhana-Antilles:** I love Tycho, and agree that not enough people write about him. sighs The perils of being a minor character. Glad you think I've characterized him well.

**kateydidnt:** Glad you like it!

---------------

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 21: Girlfriend

---------------

He stared at her, waiting for a shocked reaction that never came. Instead, she asked simply, "Why?"

_Because I was screwed up_, he thought to himself. _Because they should have shipped me off a long time ago._ Aloud he said, "It's a long story."

"I've got time." She took off her nerf-hide jacket and sat down on the cot, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankles. Putting her hands behind her and leaning back, she cocked her head to one side and looked at him expectantly. Clearly, the time was of little concern to her.

He smiled in spite of himself. "You're something else, you know that?" And she was. About his age, beautiful but just as lethal. He'd flown against her, sparred with her, and gone to the shooting range with her, back when she'd visited her uncle, before Yavin. She'd bested him more than once, though she'd grudgingly admitted that he was that he was better with a blaster. She'd give him no such satisfaction on flying or fighting.

"I know," she replied with a grin.

And she was always so blasted sure of herself. "I know you know," he retorted.

She favored him with another grin, but then sobered. "So? What's the story?"

He sat down next to her and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and clasping his hands. He couldn't believe he was going to get into this at this hour. "To answer your second question, a man named Garm Bel Iblis is the reason I didn't get thrown out. He intervened because he knew I was, ah, having some problems." She nodded for him to continue but didn't speak, so he went on, fixing his gaze on the floor.

"About six months earlier, we were assigned to pull off an ambush. We never should have been given the mission, but they were low on experience squads and we were in the neighborhood." He shrugged.

"Anyway, one of our pilots, a man named Kissek Doran, lost it. He panicked and ran. Piggy and I were sent to bring him back – or shoot him down. If he'd gotten too far out, they'd have picked him up, and an ion blast would have shown up on their scanners. The whole mission would've been compromised and we'd all have ended up dead. Piggy tried to force him down, but he wouldn't stop. So I shot him down. Didn't have a choice." He sighed and looked over at her. "But that didn't make it any easier."

"I wouldn't imagine, no," she said softly, eyes locked on his face.

He gave her a small smile, grateful for the measure of understanding she'd offered, before returning his attention to the floor. "Bel Iblis was a politician back when the Empire was still the Republic, and he helped found and organize the Republic. And for some reason, he was on the ship we were based on at the time. I think we were escorting him somewhere, but I'm not sure. Anyway, he heard about what happened and I guess he decided to keep his eye on me. Because he heard about Kien'tol, and ordered that they reinstate me. I heard a few months later that he left the Alliance altogether, but I don't know for sure. Or why, for that matter."

"He did leave," Jesina murmured, but shook her head. "What happened at Kien'tol, Wes?" she asked gently. There was no condescension in her voice, but there was also no sympathy. And he was glad for both.

"We ambushed the first squadron from the _Inhibitor_ and it was a pretty easy fight – we caught them so unprepared…" he trailed off and shook his head. "But two of them ran. My CO, Commander Harken, told us to let them go, but I went after them. Two-on-two, when they saw us coming, it wasn't as easy. And by that point, Harken figured recalling us wasn't worth it, so he sent my flight's other wingpair to help us out. They were both killed by the pilots we'd gone after. My wingman and I killed those two, but he was killed when Celchu's squadron came in."

He stood as he finished speaking and she startled him by standing as well. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she pulled him around to face her. "I'm not going to tell you not to blame yourself, because I'm honestly not sure you shouldn't. But I am going to say that you need to move past it. Otherwise, you're going to drive yourself crazy. Obviously, Bel Iblis thought that there was something about you that was worth saving, and I know enough about the man that I refuse to believe he'd make the decision to intervene without giving it careful consideration. The man was a politician – he was trained to see things in people. Don't disavow his judgment."

---------------

Jesina leaned against the wall outside Janson's quarters. Well, that hadn't been entirely unexpected, though Bel Iblis' involvement was interesting. Bel Iblis was a legend – he'd closed off Corellia to insulate it from Palpatine's takeover, but had sought to join his former colleagues in forming the Rebellion after the Emperor had tried to have him killed.

His departure from the Alliance had not gone unnoticed by Booster's watchful eyes. Bel Iblis had left because of differences with another of the founders, a woman named Mon Mothma. The woman was known for being rather severe, and for having a personality that could freeze a blue star.

She sighed. All of this explained Janson's attitude toward Tycho – and why he'd finally saved Tycho in the end. It was now…she glanced at her chrono and sighed…0500. They'd spent the last few hours talking about how little his squadron had trusted him afterward, which had precipitated his move to Red Squadron. And then he'd been unable to fly against the Death Star, which hadn't exactly done wonders for his self-respect.

She started to walk. This explained so much more than just how he'd treated Tycho. She'd only met Janson after his transfer to her uncle's flight group, so she hadn't known the man before Kissek Doran, before Kien'tol. Clearly, both events had had a profound effect on him, and on the way he acted.

She'd wondered before if the joking, the laughing, the constant smirk was a front that he hid behind – a mask of some sort. Now that answer was obvious. Janson was so insecure it was frightening. It really was. If he wasn't sure of himself – if he was as screwed up as he seemed – then what did that say about the rest of them?

Jesina stopped outside the door to the room she'd been assigned. Well, everyone had skeletons in their closet, weaknesses they preferred to keep hidden. Looked like she'd just learned Wes Janson's.

---------------

Tycho looked up at Jesina as she sat down beside him. Something was going on with her, and it bothered him that she wasn't telling him.

She'd been shooting looks at Janson all morning. Narra had let her sit it on their briefing, and she'd spent the whole time staring at his wingman, clearly preoccupied. Then she'd occupied Narra's next hour and a half, and had refused to tell him why.

He'd asked her what was going on – about ten times – and finally exploded when she'd said – for the tenth time – that she couldn't tell him. Maybe he was overreacting, but he didn't think so. They had a history and he felt betrayed somehow by her silence. She was keeping something from him, and it hurt.

He was starting to wonder if there was something going on between her and Janson. Not only the way shed been looking at him, though that was enough. But the expression on her face when she was looking at him – and when she wasn't, for that matter. He'd seen that look on her face once before. And it had been directed at him.

Maybe it was jealousy. He didn't really think so, and he didn't want to think so. He and Jesina had been over a long time ago – before they'd even begun, really. He'd seen her with other men, and she'd seen him with Nyiestra. It was just the thought of her with Janson that bothered him, he decided.

He shook the thought out of his mind. He didn't even know that anything was going on with them, and here he was figuring out reasons to be upset about it. But the way she'd leaned over him on her way to the food station, the way she'd put her hand on his shoulder…. He shook his head and sighed.

"You all right?"

He looked over at her, startled. He'd actually forgotten that she was there. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He nodded. "I am, really."

"Tycho…"

"Jes, you can't tell me, and I respect that. I do. Just, don't throw it back in my face." He got up, dumped the rest of his lunch in the trash receptacle, and left the caf.

From the end of the table, Janson had watched the exchange and saw the stunned expression on Jesina's face. Slowly, without anyone noticing because the others, shocked by Celchu's outburst, were all staring at her, he stood and left the table.

---------------

He found Celchu in the gym, still in his deck uniform, taking his frustration out on a heavy bag. "Feel like having a go at something that can hit back?"

The Alderaanian rounded on him, sending a fist in his general direction that Wes easily deflected. "What do you want?" he hissed.

"You had no reason to treat her like that."

"Treat her like what?" he snapped back.

Wes sighed. "You had no reason to yell at her," he tried again.

"You don't have to defend your girlfriend to me," Celchu shot back.

"Oh for!" Wes threw his hands up. "First of all, she's not my girlfriend. Second, I don't know where you got that from. And third, apparently I do have to defend her, because you're the one who's supposed to be her friend and you're treating her like dirt. For no reason."

"It's not—" Celchu shook his head. "Forget it."

"Look," Wes said. His conversation with Jesina had been well worth it, even though it had meant he'd missed out on the sleep he'd desperately wanted – and needed. He'd decided that he ought to try to mend some of the riff between him and Celchu. He owed her that much at least for talking him through it all and keeping his secret. "She's doing me a favor. She and I talked for a while last night. It's because of me she can't say anything. And no, I'm not going to tell you, so don't ask. But just…don't take it out on her, okay? She doesn't deserve it." Then he turned and left.

As he walked out of the gym and turned to head to his quarters, he thought about what Celchu had said. Jesina? His girlfriend? Him and Dreis? It was a strange thought. So how come it didn't feel so strange?

---------------

Jesina, seeing Wes leave, stood up a moment later and went after him. She followed him to the gym but held back when she heard the _thwack_ of something coming into contact with the punching bag hanging just inside the entrance. Instead of walking in right behind him, she went around to another door and listened to their exchange. She stopped in the doorway just in time to hear Tycho call her Wes' girlfriend. _Girlfriend? Where did that come from?_

She heard Wes voice her thoughts to Tycho, and then listened to the rest of the pilot's response, and Tycho's reaction. She saw him shake his head, and listened with wide eyes to Wes' next words. Then, as he turned to leave, she ducked back out and slipped around the corner. Her? Janson's girlfriend? Where in the name of the Force had Tycho gotten an idea like that? And was that why he was acting so strangely?

Then she sagged against the wall. She had been paying a strange amount of attention to Wes since she'd gotten back. If she stretched her mind, she could see how he could have interpreted things that way. _Sithspit! One more thing for me to fix, blast it._


	23. And, Goodbye Again

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 22: And, Good-bye Again

---------------

Jesina was waiting outside Tycho's quarters when he got back from patrol. "Can we talk?" He eyed her warily and she laughed. "I don't bite. Usually, anyway."

He smirked in spite of himself and nodded, keying in the door code, then stepping back. "Go on."

She sat down on the cot, crossing her legs in front of her and waited until he was sitting as well before saying, "I heard what you said to Janson yesterday."

Tycho scowled. He hadn't meant for her to hear that. But then, he hadn't actually meant to say it, either. Not the least of his reasons was that, even if she had gotten involved with Janson, he didn't have to believe it until the words were actually said.

And he'd said them.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Be angry at me all you want. But I can't tell you what's going on. And I've known Wes for a while now. Granted, not as long as I've known you, but he's still a friend. And I'm not going to put that friendship aside because of petty differences between the two of you."

He just stared back at her, sullen.

She glared, clenching her fists. He almost grinned at that. It was classic Jesina, trying to keep her cool when she wanted to explode. "Oooh, you're acting like a child!"

Tycho's eyes widened. "You…"

She cut him off. "I what? I'm friends with a man who you seem to view as your mortal enemy?"

"Hey, don't turn this around on me! He's hated me since day one." He was angry now. He'd understood Janson's animosity toward him, and accepted it. Truth told, he couldn't blame the other pilot. He guessed he'd feel the same way in Janson's position. But if she wanted to blame this on him, she had another thing coming. "I've tried to be friendly to him. But he hates me!"

She relaxed her hands and sighed, all the fight suddenly gone out of her. "He doesn't hate you. He hates himself." Then she pointed a finger at him sternly. "And I shouldn't even have said that, so I'll kill you if you repeat it. And I won't tell you anything more!"

He held his hands up. "Not a word." Then he thought about what she'd just said. It explained a lot, though not as much as if he knew the whole story. But he knew Jesina well enough to know that he'd already gotten more out of her than she'd have liked to give, so she'd seal herself off completely now.

Uncomfortable with the silence that had overtaken the room, he shifted slightly and decided to broach the subject he'd really wanted to avoid. "Um, Jes…about you and Janson…"

Jesina shook her head. "There's nothing going on between us. I'd tell you if there was. You know that."

"Maybe you don't know."

"What?"

He shrugged. "The way you look at him…how often you look at him…" he trailed off, knowing that she was getting his message.

She shook her head once more. "Tycho…I know I paid a lot of attention to him yesterday. I realize that. But it's out of…concern, not anything more than that. We're friends. I care about him, and I've found out some things I didn't know before, and it has me a little worried. You and I aren't the only ones dealing with pasts – and presents, for that matter – that have been rough on us. Wedge lost his parents when he was sixteen, and hunted down the people responsible for their deaths. His sister ran off and he has no idea where she is right now…and Hobbie, well, if you can get anything out of him other than 'I left Raltiir when I was seventeen for the Academy,' you're doing good."

"Yeah, he is pretty tight-lipped," Tycho agreed. Even after they'd become friends, Hobbie hadn't talked to him about his family, or his past. If they were with a group and talking about the people they'd left at home, he tended to get very uncomfortable, sometimes to the point of leaving. Tycho had assumed that he had no family because Hobbie never got any messages from back home, but he'd never asked.

She nodded. "Anyway, let's just say that Wes has his secrets too…and you kind of became an unfortunate target for them." She frowned. "I don't think target's the right word…more like focal point."

"Terrific."

Jesina sighed. "I think everything's going to be all right now…he's dealing with what he needs to deal with, instead of trying to ignore it."

Tycho didn't look convinced. "If you say so."

She smiled at him. "I do." She unfolded her legs and stood. "I've got to get ready to go…I have another run to make." She needed to deliver Kalix to someone who could make use of her knowledge. It was good for Intelligence to know about the newest Imperial technology, but they couldn't do a lot with it. They needed to pass her off to someone who could understand the data she had and try to find ways to counter it.

He stood too. "Wait." She looked at him, and he knew his thoughts were written all over his face. "I just—"

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Tycho, there's nothing between Janson and I. I'd tell you if there was. There was more between you and I, back…" she trailed off, as if she'd just realized what was going on. "Are you jealous?"

Tycho shook his head, vehemently. "No! I mean…it's just…" He sat back down, defeated. "I don't know. I've seen you with other people before, since…us…and it never bothered me at all. So I don't know why it is now." He shook his head.

He and Jesina had been so close when they were teenagers that the line between friendship and 'something more' had gotten blurred a bit. One of the times she'd visited him after she'd left for Corellia, they'd taken steps that were definitely on the 'something more' side of the line. And quickly realized that wasn't what either of them really wanted from the other. Then she'd moved on, and he'd found what he was looking for in Nyiestra.

She gave him a warm smile. "I think you're feeling Nyiestra's loss a little more acutely right now." Then she shook her head. "Don't let's blur that line again, Tycho. With you and me, or with Wes and me. Okay?"

He returned the smile and nodded. "Okay."

She shifted from foot to foot, as if unsure of how to end this awkward moment. "It'll probably be a few months before I can see you again. By then, maybe you and Wes'll be best friends."

He snickered. "I doubt it." Then he hugged her and watched her go.

---------------

Jesina was surprised to see Wes waiting by the _Nightwind_ as she walked up with Kalix. She frowned thoughtfully, then turned and nodded to the other woman. "Head inside. I'll only be a minute."

Wes waited until she was out of sight to speak. "Leaving so soon, Dreis?"

She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I know that feeling." He hesitated. "I wanted to thank you for making me talk to you. It helped. And it made me think about a few things."

She shifted the bag she was carrying from one hand to the other and studied him for a moment. "Good. I'm glad I could be of service."

He looked uncomfortable. "I mean it. Thank you."

"And I mean it. I'm glad I could help. But don't think that I don't expect to be repaid." Her eyes twinkled. "Try not to be such a jerk to Tycho, will you? He's not exactly had an easy time of it, and you certainly haven't helped."

He had the grace to look ashamed. "I know. When he first got here, I really didn't trust him. And then when I found out about Kien'tol, I hated him. And then Hobbie said a few things, and…" he trailed off and shrugged. "And after the other night, well…" He sighed. "A lot more things make sense, somehow."

"Good." She glanced at her chrono. "I've got to go. We have a place to be."

He nodded, and shifted from foot to foot. He looked so…nervous, somehow…and Jesina felt like she was seeing the man he'd been before Kissek Doran, and before Kien'tol. She thought about her promise to Cracken not to say anything about Trae's identity, and about all the reading she'd done on Kien'tol after talking to Wes. She'd managed to learn one thing, and it was something she thought Wes deserved to know. "Cam Teien's death wasn't your fault. He wasn't even there that day. His 'death' was a cover for him to go into Intelligence. He's dead now, and that's why I'm telling you this. But his death wasn't your fault."

Teien was supposed to have been one of the men in Wes' flight at Kien'tol…the first to be killed as a result of his disobeying that order. She guessed that Bel Iblis had somehow found out about it, and that had influenced his decision to intervene on Wes' behalf.

She waited just long enough to see the stunned expression on his face, then turned and walked up the boarding ramp.


	24. Return

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 23: Return

---------------

"Dreis just landed."

Tycho looked up from the datapad he'd been frowning at and saw Janson standing in the doorway. "Seriously?"

Janson nodded. "I just came from the hangar – checking out some wiring on that blasted…" he trailed off, and Tycho nodded. They'd gotten caught in one of the ice storms that seemed to hit this planet daily, and ever since then they'd been having some difficulty with their fighters.

Standing, he tossed the datapad on his cot, glad to be rid of it. "Thanks for letting me know."

Janson nodded to him. "No problem." Then he disappeared, and Tycho headed for the door.

As he walked through the ice-walled corridors of Echo Base, the Rebellion's newest outpost, located on the ball of snow and ice that was the planet Hoth, he thought about the other pilot. Whatever Janson had talked to Jesina about, it had made a difference in the Tanaabian's attitude toward him. They seemed to have a tentative truce, though things were still occasionally tense between them.

Especially anytime someone brought up Jesina.

Tycho didn't know what it was. He was by no means interested in any kind of relationship with Jesina – they'd tried that once and it'd been a mistake. He just…just didn't want to see her with Janson.

And he didn't know why. He didn't have anything against Janson, not really. It was just an irrational concern, made worse because of the fact that, since they'd learned that Jes was headed their way, Janson had seemed to look forward to her arrival more than even he had himself.

Jesina was talking to a mechanic, making angry gestures toward the _Nightwind_. He wondered idly what could have happened to it to put her in this mood. She always kept it in perfect shape. It was her pride and joy.

He came up behind her just as the mechanic nodded and walked off. "Hello there."

She spun around, throwing her arms around him. "Force, it's good to see you again!" she said into his neck.

He hugged her, lifting her slightly off the ground. "Good to see you, too," he said, laughing at her enthusiasm. As she finally drew back, he held her at arm's length and studied her for a moment. She'd always been small, but she seemed even thinner than she'd been when he'd seen her last. It might just have been an illusion because of the heavy clothing she was wearing, but he doubted it. Her hair was shorter and lighter, with reddish highlights running through it. Her face was pale, but her eyes and smile were just as bright. Still, something seemed…off…about her. "You okay?"

Her smile widened. "I'm just fine."

---------------

Wes heard the door chime and dragged himself up out of bed. He'd spent the morning combing over his fighter and the last two hours filling out reports for Narra and Luke. He'd only been laid down…he glanced at the chrono…seven minutes ago. "I'm coming!" he called, not that he thought whoever his visitor was could hear him through the half-meter-thick walls.

He slapped at the panel and his annoyance disappeared as he found himself facing Jesina. He hadn't actually gotten to talk to her in the hangar earlier, and so was glad she stopped by. But all he could think of to say was, "Hey."

She shifted from foot to foot. "Can I come in?"

He frowned, but nodded and stepped back, motioning for her to walk by. "You all right?"

"Um, yeah." She brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I…um…something happened, and I didn't want to go to Tycho because he'll ask questions that I can't answer and I thought that I could talk to you. But now I'm thinking that this was a bad idea, and I'm just gonna go." Jesina headed for the door, but he caught her arm. Turning back, she winced and he let go.

"What—?" he started, but she shook her head and he fell silent.

She unbuttoned her coat and, despite the cold, untucked the bottom of her shirt and lifted it, turning slowly.

Wes' eyes widened as he saw the angry bruises across her torso. Then they narrowed, and his face reddened with anger. "What happened?"

"Let's just say I ran into someone who didn't know how to treat a woman. I…I can't tell you any more than that. But, I…" she trailed off, tears filling her eyes.

He started. He'd known her for a good amount of time now and he couldn't remember ever seeing her cry. He pulled her toward him, more gently this time, and put his arms around her.

They stayed like that for a moment, Jesina near tears but never actually crying. Finally she stepped back, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He sat down on the cot, and patted the spot next to him, but she didn't take it. "What happened?" he asked again. "Tell me what you can," he added.

"I…" she hesitated. "I got caught at what I was doing; I can't tell you what that was. But I just spent two months sitting in a cell, shackled to a slimy wall wearing, well," she paused again, "a lot less than I am now."

"What…what did they do to you?"

"Generic beatings," she replied, slipping into a more professional mentality. "He…he wasn't trained in torture techniques, so he didn't know what he was doing. Just, well, most of my body looks like my stomach and back do." She met his eyes. "Don't tell Tycho. Please?"

He shook his head. "I won't."

"Thank you."

They lapsed into a silence that was broken when Wes asked her, "How did you get away?"

"One of the guards didn't cuff me quite right. I got myself free, and waited until someone came. Turned out, it was him, the boss. He came in when he didn't see me shackled, and I jumped him. I got his blaster away from him and…I killed him. I shot him three times…the first didn't kill him, but it incapacitated him enough. I didn't have to shoot him again, but…" she trailed off and he realized that she hadn't been so upset about what had happened to her, but about what she'd done.

"Don't second-guess yourself, Jes," he told her, squeezing her hand. He understood what she was thinking – he'd dealt with the same feelings from time to time. Certainly, there were ways to avoid killing the people they fought against. Blasters had stun settings and some fighter classes were equipped with ion cannons. But this was a war and dead men didn't come back to haunt you. The ones you left alive might. "You rely on your instincts, the same as we do. You did what you needed to do. If you second-guess yourself, all you'll do is drive yourself crazy. This way, there's one less crazy man trying to kill us all."

She looked up at him and he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. "I've never doubted myself like this."

"Don't start."

"Wes, I…" she started, but her voice dropped off as she stood on her tiptoes, tentatively pressing her lips against his.

He returned the kiss for a second, but then broke it off, stepping back. "You don't want this, Jes."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't. You want to feel better, but you don't want this. You don't want me."

"What makes you think that?" she asked, a mildly shocked expression on her face.

"I…you and Celchu…" he shrugged. "I guess I thought…" he began, but stopped when she burst into laughter.

"Wes…Tycho and I…we don't work together, not like that. We tried, but it was such a mistake." She shook her head and leaned toward him again, trying for a second time to kiss him. But again he stepped back.

"Jes, not now. You're hurting; even I can see that," he muttered self-deprecatingly. "I…I do want this…I'm not an idiot. But not like this, not because you're upset."

For a moment, she just stared at him, confusion written all over her face. Then, her face flushed, she turned and left.

Wes stood there, watching her go. "I'm going to hate myself in the morning."


	25. Departure

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 24: Departure

---------------

Tycho walked into the north entrance way and immediately gravitated toward Jesina, who was locked in some argument with General Rieekan. It wasn't an abnormal sight – this was how she'd spent the better part of the last week and a half, when she wasn't working on the _Nightwind_, that was. Just as he approached, he saw her throw up her hands and heard her say, "You need to go out on a date, General. I hear Mon Mothma's available. I'm sure that would work out. Your paranoid, overbearing personalities suit each other perfectly!"

He instantly backpedaled, eyes wide. He didn't know what had set her off this time, and wasn't sure he wanted to. General Rieekan had a reputation for being a fair and somewhat kind man – though he could be as cold as the ice that the base's walls were made out of if the situation demanded it.

She turned on her heel and stalked away, shoving her hands into the pockets of her parka. On her way out, she nearly knocked him over. He spun around and jogged after her, catching her arm. "You all right?"

"I'm fine…he just…" she waved her hand toward the General and sighed loudly. "I need to get going and he won't let me leave. Not that that's anything new. There were reports of activity a couple of systems over – three days ago! – and he's afraid my leaving will alert someone to the base's presence." She blew out a hard breath and quickened her pace, clenched fists hanging by her side.

"Well, we were about to start a sabacc game – feel like joining?" he asked.

She brightened quickly. "You sure you feel like letting me take off with all your credits? Whenever I finally _get_ to leave, that is?" she asked, shooting a frustrated look over her shoulder at Rieekan, who was watching her with some amusement.

"Well, you can have whatever credits I have left. Solo's managed to take most of them."

---------------

"I'm out," Wes said, tossing his cards down on the table in disgust.

"Me too." Jesina gathered the credits on the table in front of her – slightly more than she'd started with and stood.

Wes pushed back his chair and straightened up as well, stretching. As he lowered his arms, he brushed his left hand against the small of her back.

"You're going to give us a chance to win that back tomorrow night, right, Dreis?" Han Solo asked.

"Tell you what. I'll give you yours back if you manage to talk Rieekan into letting me get out of here."

He snickered. "Deal," he agreed, reaching across and shaking her hand.

She returned the handshake and nodded to Wedge, Hobbie, and Skywalker. "Night, boys."

Wes followed Jesina out. "Feeling any better?" he asked once they were out of earshot of the other pilots. He'd barely seen her since that first night, and it had had him a little worried.

She turned to him, offering him a small smile, and nodded. "Better. Not entirely, but mostly." She shifted from foot to foot. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah."

"My quarters?" she suggested. They could go to his but it was possible that Hobbie would be back earlier than she would like. Given the way that the Raltiirian had been going, he'd be heading to bed in short order.

"Yeah."

---------------

"What's up?" Wes asked, sitting down on her bed and marveling at how much more comfortable it felt than his. "Why do you get a nice bed?"

"I…I don't…" she gave him a bewildered look. "It's a bed, Wes. In fact, it's not even a bed. It's a military issue cot. There's really not much difference between one and the next." She shook her head. "Would you be serious?"

"Yeah…it's just…it's much more comfortable." She shot him a look and he sobered. "What's up?" he asked again.

"You…and me. I want to try this."

It was his turn to look confused. "I'm not tracking you."

"What almost happened when I first got back – you were right. I was upset, and I wasn't thinking straight, and you were right to put a stop to it. But I do have feelings for you. And I do want to try." She shook her head and sighed.

"I know this is a really awkward conversation. But I'm not experienced with this. Before…there was Tycho and one other man who I don't care to talk about. Relationships are so not my thing it's sad. I just…I don't know any other way to do this."

He stood, taken aback by the direction of the conversation, and put his hands on her shoulders. "Calm down."

"I…what?"

"Relax, Jes." He leaned forward, pressing against as he finished the kiss he'd abruptly broken off the last time she'd been in his quarters.

---------------

Jesina walked out of her quarters and directly into General Rieekan. "Nicely done, Captain."

"Excuse me?" She regarded him suspiciously.

"You've got your clearance. General Cracken seems to have taken an interest in you. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

"I…I'm sure if General Cracken would have wanted you to know anything about his dealings with me, he'd have told you." She was still annoyed with him for stalling her as long as she'd had. She'd planned on her stopover on Hoth lasting a week at the most – not nearly as long as it had. He'd done everything from grounding her because of additional, unnecessary repairs he claimed her ship needed to the nonsense about activity in a nearby system, and she was in a mood to be difficult in return.

"Well, you're free to go. But you have a narrow window, so I suggest you take it."

Her eyes narrowed. "If you were than anxious to get rid of me, you shouldn't have delayed me so long."

"You needed a break, Captain. Any fool could see that, and I know of quite a few who did. I gave it to you – against your will as it was. You'll get over it. And perhaps you'll stay alive a little longer as a result." Then he turned and walked away, leaving her staring at his back, slightly dazed.

There was not one member of the Alliance Command structure that she understood – or cared to.

---------------

"Hey."

Jesina straightened a little too quickly, bumping her head on the bulkhead. "Hey," she said, dusting off her hands.

"You're leaving?"

She nodded. "I needed to leave two weeks ago, but Rieekan delayed me as long as was in his power."

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know. Tycho, I have my own work, and you have yours. There's no telling how long you'll be here – the Alliance doesn't exactly have a track record for staying in one place for an extended period of time. And it may not be convenient for me to make it all the way out here, or wherever you end up." She shrugged. "Besides, you can get along just fine without me."

"I know I can. That doesn't mean I want to, though. You're all I've got left, Jes."

"No I'm not. As strange as all this is to you still, you have this. Janson's finally accepted you, and Wedge and Skywalker did from the start. And Hobbie, of course, is glad to have you on board. Consider this starting over."

"I thought I already had started over."

"No one ever said you only got one chance to start over." She hugged him. "I'll be around, and I'll stay in touch. But you're a big boy. You don't need me around to threaten the Rogues for you."

"How about threatening Solo so I can get back some of my credits?" he suggested.

She laughed and put an arm around his waist. "Come on, I have more crates to move."

---------------

Jesina and Wes bid each other a private good-bye in his quarters. They'd decided that they were going to keep their relationship – or whatever one might call it – to themselves, at least for the beginning.

Though he expected the others to figure it out in short order.

"I'm going to miss you," he said softly. "You know, you could always join up with us. We've got an opening right now."

She shook her head. "That's not for me, Wes. Can you see me in an environment as structured as a fighter squadron? I'd go crazy."

He sighed. "I know. It's just…I'm not exactly in love with the idea of you running around the galaxy on your own."

"Janson, don't get all protective over me now. You never doubted my ability to take care of myself before. Don't start just because we…because of this."

"I always worried about you before. It just wasn't my place to say so."

She glared at him, swatting him lightly on the arm. "I have to go. I promised Tycho I'd stop by once more before I left."

He kissed her lightly, then released her, forcing a smile. "Keep in touch, Dreis."

She smiled in return, but it was just as fake. Leaving was turning out to be harder than she'd expected. "I'll see you around, Janson."


	26. Epilogue

Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

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Epilogue

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"How much longer you think we'll be here?" Tycho asked Wedge, toying with one of the blankets on his cot. They'd been at Hoth for nearly two years now, off and on – more on than off. And they'd all agreed that it was getting colder by the day.

"Hopefully not too much longer. As it is, I don't think a year on Tatooine would warm me up." Wedge shivered and rubbed his arms, though he could barely feel the motion through all the layers he was wearing.

"I say that if the next place they send us isn't hospitable, we mutiny."

"That'll work," Wedge said, rubbing his hands together.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and Tycho looked at him. "Our room isn't bugged, is it?"

Wedge glanced around. "Don't think so." Then he got up and headed for the door. Maybe the movement would warm him.

Maybe not.

The door opened and he was surprised to see General Rieekan standing there. "Sir," he said crisply, saluting. Behind him, he could hear Tycho rise.

The General returned the salute. "Do you mind if I come in, gentlemen?"

"Uh, yes, sir," Wedge said.

"Yeah, it's not like we were talking about revolting and heading to warmer climates," Tycho murmured, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

Rieekan shot him a strange look, but didn't smile. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Wedge's stomach suddenly felt colder than the air around them. "Yes, sir?"

"Jesina Dreis' ship was destroyed. When she left here it was on a cargo run to Sullust. As near as we can tell, she dropped out of hyperspace outside of Belsavis for a course correction and was ambushed…by the _Inhibitor_. A cruiser we had in the vicinity responded to her distress call, but there was nothing but debris left by the time it arrived."

---------------

Tycho literally felt his blood run cold. He'd heard the expression before, but had never experienced it – even living inside this icebox for the last year or so. He felt his knees weaken, felt hands under his arms. He vaguely could make out the cot beneath him as someone helped him sit down.

He could hear voices in the room, but none he could recognize; nor were there any words he could comprehend.

After a moment, the hands holding him still loosened their grip and he was able to make out the words and recognize the voices. Wedge was saying his name over and over again, and General Rieekan was telling him to breathe.

He heard the same words echo inside his head. _Yes, that's it_. _You need to breathe. In and out, there you go._ After a moment, he was no longer sure which words were coming from where.

"That's better, lieutenant." That was the General.

"Can you hear me, Tycho?" That was Wedge.

Slowly, he nodded, and opened his eyes. He could feel water on his face, but it took longer for him to realize that the water had come from the tears that continued to run down his cheeks. "Force," he whispered.

"Are you going to be all right, son?" Rieekan asked. Tycho wasn't sure if he was talking to him or Wedge, so he gave him a half-nod. "I'm going to go talk to Skywalker, let him know neither of you will be reporting for patrol."

Tycho managed another nod, and forced himself to focus on the General's retreating form. Then he shifted his attention to Wedge's hands, which currently rested on his shoulders.

Wedge was kneeling in front of him, his eyes red though there were no tears falling. "I'm sorry," he managed to say.

Tycho pushed him back. "I…I need to go."

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Wes rounded the last corner on the way to his quarters and stopped short when he saw Tycho sitting on the floor outside the room he shared with Wedge. He frowned and continued to head toward his own door, but concern for his squadron mate overpowered his desire to relax – and plan out another trick for Wedge and Luke.

Melting the floor under Luke's chair had been fun.

He walked past his door and knelt on the floor next to Tycho. The man was hugging his knees to his chest and his eyes were fixed on some random spot on the wall. "You all right?"

Tycho shook his head.

Wes frowned. He wasn't the sensitive type. Not that he thought Tycho was – when had he started thinking of the other pilot by his first name anyway? Probably when Wedge had. But the Alderaanian was clearly upset, and comforting people wasn't his strong suit.

Especially when they weren't exactly volunteering anything.

Or didn't seem interested in being comforted.

He sighed. "What happened?"

Tycho seemed to physically struggle to pull his eyes away from the wall, and Wes was struck by the expression on his face when he could finally see it. For all the time he'd known Tycho – even when they couldn't stand each other – the other man's eyes had been his most communicative feature. But now they were empty. They were completely void of emotion, and even the color seemed to have changed. His eyes were no longer the sharp ice blue that had so many of the women on base tossing him second looks. They were duller, an almost cloudy dark blue that belied the emotion he was clearly trying – and failing – to control.

"She's dead."

The words had the force of a solid punch to his stomach. He was knocked off balance, falling hard onto the icy floor. He sat there, staring, open mouthed, for how long he didn't know.

"How?"

"Ambushed."

"Who?"

"_Inhibitor_."

"Where?"

"Belsavis."

"When?"

Tycho only shrugged.

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If someone had asked Wes later how long he was sitting on the floor across from Tycho, or how he made it back into his room, he probably wouldn't have known.

Hobbie could tell them, though – a rough estimate, at least. Because he walked by them three times over the course of an hour, before he finally realized that neither was speaking at all – or even looking at the other, for that matter. Finally, he'd talked Wes into coming back to their room, but he'd been unable to get his friend to tell him what had happened. He left Wes lying on his cot, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, and more or less catatonic, and went to find Wedge.

Who, by that time, had apparently managed to somehow coax Tycho inside their quarters. The Alderaanian was sitting up – a slight improvement over Wes – but still staring at nothing.

And Wedge didn't look much better than the other two.

Sighing, and deciding he probably wouldn't get anything from either of them, he left to find Luke.

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Wedge saw Hobbie pause in the doorway, and was glad he didn't come in. He didn't want to talk to him now. He was glad Tycho wasn't in a talking mood, because he wasn't sure he wanted to talk to him, either.

He wondered absently if Hobbie had gotten Wes into their quarters, but it was far from being the top item on his list of concerns. He sank down onto his cot, Rieekan's words still playing over in his head.

_Jesina…destroyed…a cargo run…Sullust…we can tell…hyperspace…Belsavis…ambush… Inhibitor…distress call…debris…cargo run…Sullust…Belsavis…Inhibitor…debris._

Whiskey.

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Tycho felt the thin mattress he was sitting on shift under additional weight, and looked over to see Wedge sitting beside him, two full bottles of whiskey in his hands. "Feel like a drink?" he asked, offering a pained, lopsided, smile. "Won't have to worry about feeling cold again."

"I don't expect to feel anything again, not anytime soon, anyway."

It was the longest sentence he'd managed since General Rieekan's visit.

He reached over and took the bottle that sat in Wedge's right hand, opening it in a single fluid motion. He took a long sip, relishing the burning sensation as it drained down his throat. It stung, but the pain felt good. Maybe he _would _feel something again, after all.

He watched Wedge tip his own bottle to his lips, heard his friend's satisfied sigh. "What do you think she'd say if she saw us right now?" he asked.

"I think she'd probably take the bottles away and throw them at us."

"Nah…it'd be a waste of good whiskey. She liked a good drink as much as the next Corellian."

"Alderaanians drink whiskey, too." He could already feel the alcohol going to his head. Exhaustion, lack of food, lack of energy – and alcohol. Probably not the best combination. He took another swig.

"Yeah, but not nearly as much."

"She did."

"Like I said, Corellians."

Tycho was quiet for a moment. "She'd find something to hit us with."

"Yeah."

Again, there was silence, and again Tycho broke it. "It's almost harder than before."

Wedge looked at him, head tilted to the side. "How's that?"

"I mean…it's not, not really. When Alderaan was destroyed, it…I can't even explain how it felt. But I knew all along – even at that moment – that Jes was still alive, just because of how she was, and that she hadn't been back to Alderaan since I'd left, and that helped me. Because of her, there was still something left for me. My whole planet was gone, but not my whole life. There was still something that was okay."

"That's how Booster and Mirax were for me," Wedge said, talking another long drink from the bottle.

Tycho nodded absently. "But she's not here anymore. She was the last thing left, and…"

"And now she's gone, and there's nothing left."

If the words might have seemed harsh to the neutral observer, they didn't to Tycho. He just nodded, and raised the bottle to his lips once more.

After a long moment, Tycho spoke again. "I'm just tired of starting over."

Wedge nodded. "I think we all are. Janson…well, I don't really know much about him, honestly. Doesn't talk much about himself, y'know?"

"Neither does Hobbie," Tycho pointed out, detecting the slightest slur to his words.

"I know…but with him, you know he's had to start over, at least once. Went to the Academy, came over to us…an' anyway, even so…we've all had to start again. I don't know anyone who doesn't see joinin' the 'lliance as startin' over. Ya gotta give up everythin' – even if ya got fam'ly at home, don' see 'em anymore." Tycho noticed that Wedge was slurring too, worse than he had been himself. He didn't particularly care, though, and simply nodded.

"Ya thin' she got drunk after Alderaan?" Wedge asked.

"Prob'ly," he murmured. "So I don' thin' she'd be that mad at us for this…" he trailed off, draining more whiskey from the bottle. Yes, he was definitely getting drunk. Funny, he could usually hold his liquor better than this. Couldn't he?

---------------

Luke followed Hobbie back to Wedge and Tycho's shared room. They met Wes in the corridor outside. He looked better than Hobbie had described, but still not entirely well. His face was pale, eyes dull, hair mussed from lying down.

Together, they walked in silence the rest of the way to Tycho and Wedge's quarters. The door was open, and the two were sitting side by side on the bed, mostly empty bottles of whiskey in hand.

He let out a low whistle. He hadn't expected them to be drunk…yet, anyway. Maybe he should have. "Mind if we join you?"

In all honesty, he half expected them to tell him to get lost. He hadn't known Jesina half as well as even Hobbie had, and he had nothing on Wes, Wedge, and Tycho. But Wedge waved him in. "C'mon in. Have a drink."

"I think you've done enough drinking for all of us," Luke replied dryly, but he walked in and pulled up a chair, as Wes and Hobbie sat down on Wedge's cot.

"Nah, not nearly." Tycho shook his head. "Plenty more where that came from…I think." He looked sideways at Wedge, who just laughed.

"Appropriate," Hobbie murmured, and the others glanced in his direction, Luke included. He wasn't sure what Hobbie was referring to; he didn't know enough about Jesina to be privy to any inside jokes.

Hobbie shrugged. "She always could drink Tycho under the table."


End file.
